


Pyrrhic Victory

by EldritchMage



Series: Logan and Rachel Osaka [9]
Category: Wolverine and the X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 13:50:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 36,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4265583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldritchMage/pseuds/EldritchMage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome to Part 9 of my Logan and Rachel Osaka series.</p><p>Logan's been incognito too long for Rachel to think all is well. But the more she digs, the more she finds out that something even worse than Weapon X is behind his disappearance. A shadowy figure, perhaps the oldest of mutants, has had his eye on Logan for a long time.</p><p>Rachel's not going to stand for that. She's about to put all that training Weapon X forced down her throat to lethal use. But will Logan even recognize her when she finds him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The usual disclaimers apply -- X-Men and the names of the X-Men characters are trademarks of Marvel, Inc. 
> 
> Rachel Osaka/Omen, Daniel O’Shea/Daemon, and Alexei Valcheknikov/Iron Horse are my characters and don't resemble anybody I know.

You aren’t going to get a macho Wolverine opener for this story. Even Logan wouldn’t have time for it if he were in my position – hanging from a line underneath the X-Men’s Blackbird as it hovered twenty meters off the ground. The wind kicked up by the jet buffeted me into a blinding spin, and my heart was pounding so hard that I barely heard the jet. No matter. It was the dead of night over a forgotten part of Romania, and I couldn’t see or hear anything, anyway.

What was I thinking?

A couple of years ago, I was a New York antiques dealer who never did anything exciting. Now my thoughts were full of my closest friends telling me what a fool I was. I almost called Hank McCoy, the X-Men’s Beast, to pull me back aboard.

My feet touched the ground. I unhooked the line and watched it reel upward, out of my reach.

I was in it now.

_Good luck, Rachel,_ Hank sent via my retinal telemetry.

_If you know any prayers, say them all,_ I sent back.

The jet was already climbing. I was alone in the dark, an illegal invader without an ID, not even the dog tags Weapon X had put around my neck. I let my talents unfurl to their fullest and got my Uzi to hand. It was time to find Logan.

So how did I end up the black ops commando I never wanted to be, looking for Logan in circumstances he was a lot more familiar with than I was? It’s not what you think. I have no more interest in this line of work than I ever did. The only thing that would make me do this is because Logan was in so much trouble that he didn’t know a thing about it.

When I fell in love with a cocky alpha male renegade with claws and an attitude, I didn’t win any awards for sanity. When I stayed in love despite Logan’s history that I knew would bite me, I got serious talk from my friends about my mental competency. But after I endured a lot of the same abuse that Logan has undergone and still ignored every chance to bail, then I should have run, not walked, to the nearest psychiatric hospital, had myself locked in the deepest padded cell under it, and died there.

I didn’t do any of those things because they wouldn’t help Logan. I looked out into the blackness, hoping to find him before his trouble found either of us.

Ironically, Logan might not recognize me as the woman he fell in love with two years ago. He wrote about that sweet time, so I won’t repeat it. I won’t talk about Sanctuary, the mutant community where I live now, or what the inhabitants do to pool our talents to help all humans across the world. What I will talk about is how I ended up dangling from this line.

You know what Weapon X put me through. You know how long it took me to fight through it. When I reached the relative safety of Sanctuary, I had time to consider what I’d endured. Of course, Logan was a big part of my consideration. Logan hadn’t seen my new home because he was incognito on one of his innumerable clandestine missions. He’d never talked about those jobs, but I’d read enough about the Delta Force and the British SAS to know what a man with his skills did. My lover was a highly paid, highly competent, highly sought-after operative who had a love-hate relationship with the people he worked for. That was all Daniel needed to direct information my way. Do you remember Daniel O’ Shea, my albino, data-mining, mountain climbing, genius friend from _Blood Price_ and _Homecoming_? He lived next door to me at Sanctuary, and he ran security for our complex. Once he sensed where my data queries were going, he sent the results of his own queries my way. Because no computer system anywhere in the world is safe from Daniel’s infiltration, I soon amassed more information about Logan and his life than anyone had ever compiled before.

More irony – Logan’s memories had been shattered so many times that he knew next to nothing about himself. I was amassing the knowledge that he didn’t have – how he unwillingly became Weapon X, and how he’d soldiered through the American Civil War, two World Wars, Korea, Viet Nam, both Gulf wars, Afghanistan, New South China, and uncounted other “military actions.” I even knew where he’d come from and a little about his family.

Then things got weird. I found a thread so pale, so ephemeral, that for several days I thought I was letting my own experience with Weapon X create a conspiracy where there was none. So where else would I go for a sanity check besides Daniel?

He was more alarmed than I was. He brought all his talents to bear on ferreting out the most secret details about Logan’s life and the puppet master who pulled his strings. Someone ancient wanted Logan bent to his will, someone who made the brains behind Department H look like the biggest blundering fool on a reality show.

Even with Daniel’s expertise, there was precious little information, and we didn’t have Logan to ask. But what I learned whispered of someone so formidable, so dangerous…

Enter Rachel Osaka, cyborg.

Soon after I’d met Logan, I’d had an internal GPS signal planted inside my body. If I were kidnapped, the signal would allow the authorities to track and free me. I’d also added an internal signal jammer that meant that my conversations, whether personal or via any electronic media, couldn’t be overheard unless I wanted them to be.

Weapon X had disabled both devices when they’d held me. I had both repaired, but I didn’t stop there. I added a data link that didn’t need a jack receptacle behind my ear, one that presented information on my retina. I saw it as if I looked at a computer screen, but it was all conveyed internally. All I needed was proximity to any wireless network and the world of electronic data was mine to read.

Daniel wasn’t happy about that. He had a point about my diminishing humanity, but after I endured all those Weapon X training sessions learning how to kill people, I hardly felt human, anyway. My military captors had brutalized my empathic skills until they’d morphed into emotive projection, and my years of martial arts training had been refined to their most lethal. I didn’t trust myself to join any of Sanctuary’s martial arts classes because I might hurt someone, so I visited the gym alone at two in the morning.

Daniel reconciled himself to my cybernetic enhancements when he figured out that I’d become much faster at data correlation than anyone other than Daniel himself. So we plowed through a lot of data in very little time, all of which came down to a single name.

Information was scant on this most ancient of mutants. Maybe he was the father of all mutants. He was as arrogant and as manipulative as any conquering figure of history. But unlike Alexander, Caesar, Napoleon, Hitler, or Li Quan, he didn’t advertise himself. He preferred the shadows. He was content not to manipulate countries, but his champions. The death dealers.

Enter Logan as the Wolverine, and Victor Creed as Sabretooth.

Romulus had pitted both Logan and Creed against each other for decades, and likely lifetimes – to what purpose other than his own delight in gladiatorial conquest, I didn’t know. Logan and I had upset that balance when we’d killed Creed –

I’m sorry. I still wish that situation had never arisen. Maybe I’m more human than I think.

The outcome of Victor Creed’s death was still murky, and I wasn’t betting on him to stay dead forever. But he was out of the story for the moment, and I wondered if that made Logan’s position in Romulus’ mind more precarious. I watched for signs.

The most obvious one was that Logan’s work kept him away for longer than it ever had before. He moved from one job to another to another without a break. Oh, yes, I was even able to track those mysterious jobs of his, the ones he never spoke about. He’d done three since I’d last seen him. It wasn’t like him to string so many together. He usually gave himself lots of down time, hell-raising time, demon-exorcizing time. Maybe a little time with me, too, during which I did my damnedest to remind him what a normal man and woman could share.

Maybe Logan’s mysterious handler didn’t want him to remember what it was like to love someone, to have a moment of peace in the midst of entropy.

Daniel thought enough of my wonderings that he kept up a steady stream of information. Not all of it was arcane electronic information.

“Have you met Alexei yet?” Daniel asked casually over dinner one evening. He popped the last slice of his fourth tuna roll into his mouth and eyed me innocently.

“You’re going to explode if you keep eating those,” I observed tartly. “At least you would if you didn’t defy both physics and biology. You ought to weigh six hundred pounds as much as you eat, but you’re as skinny as a straw.”

“All that brisk mountain air, my lass,” he grinned. Outside of data mining, Daniel’s passion was mountain climbing. He’d hauled himself up the world’s tallest, most dangerous peaks with the glee of a kid turned loose in a fun house. “And the heart of an honest Scotsman. So, have you met Alexei yet?”

“Who’s Alexei?”

“Ah. You haven’t, then. Maybe you ought tae practice your martial arts at a more human hour. You’d meet some interesting people.”

“I’m not human anymore, Daniel. Why should I meet this Alexei?”

“Alexei Valcheknikov. He’s Russian, if you cannae tell. He’s the only martial arts practitioner here who might be a challenge for you. Everyone needs a challenge tae keep from getting complacent.”

“Logan’s challenge enough, Daniel. And I can’t hurt him.”

Daniel helped himself to another roll, this one eel. “This is verra good, Rachel. My compliments tae the chef. Alexei is verra good, too. I’ve seen him. He’s someone you can spar with. Tae whet the blade.”

“You sound like a match maker.”

“I’m not about tae tell a woman tae leave her true love. But Logan’s not here, for whatever reason, and you need tae keep your skills sharp, for the same reason. Alexei’s verra good with a blade, and he’s not interested in girls. He’d be able tae tell you a lot about what you’ve been reading lately, too.”

I cast him a jaundiced eye. “What have I been reading lately, as if you don’t know?”

“Military special ops. Training programs, gear setups, that sort of thing. And don’t fuss at me for peeking at your access list, lass. After all we’ve discussed lately, why wouldn’t I? You keep tabs on Logan’s email account – and mine, too, for that matter. I’m glad you do. Our kind need backup.”

I waved a hand at him and pulled my knees up under my chin on the sofa. I chewed in silence.

Daniel’s face gradually lost its teasing smile. It was rare that he was serious when he wasn’t plugged into his data net, but this was one of those times. He nudged my foot with his long, nearly prehensile mountain climber toes.

“You’re not looking tae join the bastards, are you? After everything we’ve ferreted out?”

I was quick to shake my head at Daniel’s concerned tone. “Never. I’m just trying to understand it. No, more than that…”

“What more?”

I sighed, shook my head. “It sounds stupid. But if this Romulus turns out to be something… he’s got Logan in his cross hairs, and one day, maybe in the middle of one of those jobs of his… I don’t know, Daniel. It’s not like I can help him. Those black ops guys practice for years to get as good as they are. There’s nothing I could do for him in that situation. But something tells me to learn what I can, while I can, in case.”

“Is this just your usual penchant for planning, or are you letting Romulus freak you out? Or are your talents pulling at you?”

I shook my head again. “I’m not sure. I can’t tell things that far out in the future. Usually a day or two at most, and this doesn’t feel like my talents. Maybe it’s mostly caution and the experience of dealing with Weapon X. Don’t turn down the chance to learn more to protect myself.”

“Will you learn how tae properly jump out of airplanes, then?” Daniel asked slyly, referring to the one and only time I’d parachuted. Logan had thrown me out of a crashing jet over snowy British Columbia less than a year ago. I still remember how hysterically I had screamed.

“Once was enough,” I held up my hands in demurral. “I’ll stick to reading about that.”

“And a little exercise on the fencing mats,” Daniel kept poking. “Alexei’s just the tick. And don’t tell me that you don’t want tae hurt anyone. I think Alexei can handle whatever you dish out.”

“Why’s that?”

Daniel grinned as if he were about to reveal the punch line of a joke. “Because his mutant name is the Iron Horse.”


	2. Chapter 2

I thought about what Daniel had said for a day or two, then used my nifty little data mining implants to dig. Once Daniel with his omnipresent immersion in all data electronic noticed, I found things being sent my way. Mr. Valcheknikov had been a minor dancer with the Kirov Ballet, but that had been only his cover. He’d been a knifeman for Russia’s Federal Security Service, or FSB, with multiple kills over many years. When I stopped being scared, I got curious. I started visiting the gym a couple times a day during daylight. Sometimes I swam, sometimes I lifted weights, and sometimes I took a yoga class. I eventually spotted Mr. Valcheknikov going into a ballet class – no surprise, given his background. He was tall, slender, dark haired and darker eyed, and he carried himself with all the grace of a classically trained dancer. Yet… there was a cast to his eyes that I’d come to know. He’d taken more than one human life, and he’d thought about it long and hard.

I was in yoga clothes, but they’d work for ballet. I got shoes from my locker and slipped into the back of the class. I’d taken ballet for many years as a child, so I eased into the warmup stretches and bends as if greeting old friends. Alexei’s place at the barre was far enough away from me that I was able to glance at him now and again. He was very good –

“We begin,” Alexei said, clapping his hands twice. Apparently he was the instructor. “We have new student today. Is very nice to have you join us, Rachel Osaka. Welcome to Sanctuary and our class. I am Alexei, and that is Chandra, Nell, Bryce, Cabot, Jillian, N’kyam, and Sarah.”

He gave a small bow, and the other students in the class murmured greetings and smiled. I returned their greetings with a bow of my own and a rueful smile.

“I thank you for the kind greeting.”

He laughed. “Gracious lady. So, let us dance.”

Alexei might be a retired dancer, but he was still a strict, old school classicist, and we were all sufficiently worn and stretched when it was over. As the other students trickled away at the end, Alexei came up to me, his hands behind his back to bow to me courteously again.

“You dance well for one away from it for so long.”

I chuckled. “You are very kind. I have been away for a long time. I spend more of my time in the martial arts these days. As I hear you do as well.”

“Ah.” He held his hand out to me, and I put mine in his. “Position two. So I am found out.”

I moved to the instructed position, and followed Alexei’s lead through a few steps. “As I am.”

“More arch. Yes, better. Now relevé, and down… I have heard something of your story.”

“I have heard you are well versed with a sword and it would behoove me to spar with you because you are very good.”

“So I am,” Alexei agreed without arrogance. He turned me around, lifted me effortlessly, and I floated across the room with him before being placed precisely back on the floor. “That was very nice. Good arm position, though tilt head little higher. Yes, that is it. You have elegant line. Do you also have sword?”

I turned to face him. “A Japanese katana. And you?”

“Cossack cavalry blade. Heavier than your katana.”

“I also hear that you also have more than a casual acquaintance with some of the more… non-standard training that can go with a blade. And the wherewithal to protect yourself from those with the same training.”

His dark eyes were still, but I sensed sadness behind them.

“I’m sorry,” I wished him. “If I’m intruding, then please forgive me.”

“So is true that you have been favored with such training, too,” he said quietly.

I nodded. “I have reasons to keep such skills sharp. But I do not want to hurt anyone when I do, whether by asking for a sparring partner or during the actual sparring itself.”

Alexei smiled a little. “Gently said. I appreciate your empathy.”

I laughed. “I _am_ an empath, you know.”

He reddened and pulled at his bottom lip. “No, I did not know. Thank you for saying so. I am not what you would say… plugged into flurry of discussion that generally surrounds new arrival.” Then he smiled guiltily. “Though I have heard of mysterious woman who practices very late at night with katana who is by all rumor quite good. I had hoped to meet you and find out if rumors were true.”

“I’m not mysterious, Alexei. Just… private. I haven’t learned everything… willingly. Some of it…”

“I understand,” he nodded, and his emotions told me that he did. “I am sorry. But at same time… there is no one here with whom I can practice, and for same reasons. Perhaps we help each other. Tomorrow morning?”

“Ten?”

“Just so.”

“I look forward to it,” I smiled, offering my hand.

Alexei looked at my hand thoughtfully before taking it. “As do I. And I hope… that you did not come to my class just to ask me to spar.”

“To be honest, I didn’t know about your class. I was planning to do some yoga on my own. But when I saw you, I wanted to know you a little before I said anything. I don’t like to intrude. I enjoyed your class very much. I would like to come again. You’re a good teacher.”

“I would welcome you. You dance well.”

“Thank you. Though my pointe days are over.”

“It would not do to damage your feet,” he agreed. “Hunters are wise to guard their speed.”

I didn’t have to ask him what he meant.


	3. Chapter 3

I had much to think about over lunch, and it was all about Alexei Valcheknikov. He was courteous, beautifully trained, and very, very conflicted. He was bisexual if not homosexual, and while that didn’t bother me, perhaps Alexei worried about what I thought. As soon as I’d told him that I was an empath, his apprehension had shot up. On the other hand, if Alexei had undergone the same kind of training that Logan had, as a Russian he’d probably been schooled to believe that both the West and the East were his enemies, and I represented both. Maybe he’d run into Logan at some point as an enemy. Or maybe he’d had to whack someone like me once. Or maybe he was a mole waiting to whack me –

God, the crap runs through my brain when I don’t know what I’m talking about…

I took out the box that held the katana and wakizashi that I’d given Logan. They matched the pair of blades that I’d bought for myself. My katana had snapped in that plane crash over British Columbia and could not be repaired, so I took out Logan’s blade to polish it for tomorrow’s meeting with Alexei. Logan wouldn’t mind, and it cheered me to think of him as I wiped it down carefully. I found the Japanese blouse and pants that I usually wore for such things. Then I went out for my afternoon run to clear my head.

The next morning, I was up early to breakfast lightly before meeting Alexei. I had changed my mind and put aside my traditional Japanese clothing, instead opting for my usual stark black jacket, pants, and gloves with the special Kevlar lining that deflected the worst of Logan’s wicked thrusts. I also had a fencing mask to protect my head. It seemed better to be honest about what I’d become. Then I took up Logan’s sword box and carried it down to the gym.

Alexei was waiting for me when I arrived. “Doboe utro,” he wished me with a quiet smile. He had a cloth wrapped bundle under his arm, as well as a couple of wooden practice wands. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” I greeted him.

He nodded towards the box I carried. “You have katana, I see.”

“And you your Cossack sword.”

He unwrapped the soft cloth from the saber in its sheath. It was old and the scabbard was worn, but the blade was clean and bright. He took in my katana with a practiced eye.

“Special piece,” he said knowledgeably. “Not something I would like to damage in match against bulky Cossack sword. I thought it best to start with wooden practice wands. Until we have assessed each other little bit. Then we can use practice blades.”

“Agreed.”

I put my sword box to the side, and took one of the wands to warm up. As it happened, our training was dissimilar enough that the wooden wands were a good choice to start with, because we both struck several unexpected blows as we tried to figure out how to spar. Alexei seemed guarded, uncomfortable with his body, which was odd for such an experienced dancer. After we toyed with the wands for a few minutes, I beckoned to him.

“Let’s try just free forming it for a while. What fighters do when we meet someone different.”

He shrugged. “As you will. What you call street fighting.”

I nodded. “I’ll bet we have more in common there than we’ve had trying to be so formal.”

He shot me a look, guilty and maybe ashamed. “I hope not.”

I straightened, but didn’t drop my eyes. “There’s less difference than either of us would like. More a matter of degree.”

Alexei’s mouth twitched uncomfortably, but he went into his stance slowly.

I followed suit and let my eyes flare into life, showing me the time lines. Alexei straightened.

“Your eyes…”

“I know. They creep people out.”

“What does glow mean?”

I straightened, too. “I see time. How you will move over the next several seconds.”

“Which means… you can anticipate. Big tactical advantage.”

“It can be.”

He went back to his crouch, an interested expression on his face. “So I am forewarned.”

I let him come at me. He had to take only a step or two for me to realize how well trained he was, how lethal he could be. I had no compunction about using all of my skills – speed, anticipation, and empathy – to avoid his subtle feint and the real blow to hit him solidly on his hamstring.

“Quite big advantage,” he observed dryly as we faced each other again. Then he dove at me again.

This time when I whacked him, my stick didn’t fall on yielding human flesh. The instant before my blow landed, his skin waxed with a subtle sheen, and my stick cracked against what that felt like stone.

“The Iron Horse,” I said. “Your tactical advantage.”

He held up, shrugging. “So it is. My flesh turns to something hard like iron, but without brittleness. Is still flexible, but impervious to impacts from most weapons short of rocket.”

I smiled in relief. “So I can whale at you and not leave a mark on you.”

He nodded.

“I’m really glad about that.”

“You, however, are not so protected.”

“It’s hard for most people to land a blow on me. When they do, my suit takes most of the impact. So maybe you don’t have to worry much about hurting me, either.”

He shared my smile. “That is good thing. You should put helmet on now.”

Things got easier as we both relaxed. Once I understood that Alexei’s talent protected him from my worst blows, I didn’t worry about pulling them. And once he understood just how fast I was, he didn’t worry about pulling his, either. In a few minutes, we were whaling away ferociously at each other with practice blades. Our styles were too dissimilar for the exchange to have the same joy that a session with Logan did, but it was the most unrestrained workout I’d had since Logan had left. We would have gone longer, but once we started attracting attention from bystanders, I held off. Even our own kind was uncomfortable to watch such a fierce exchange.

“You are self-conscious with audience?” Alexei murmured curiously when I paused.

I shook my head. “They are afraid. I feel it.”

Alexei glanced at them, looked away, but I didn’t need to see his eyes to know that it wasn’t his preferences that shamed him, but what he’d done as an assassin.

“They don’t know what we’ve done. I don’t feel disgust or horror directed at either of us. Just apprehension at our intensity. They haven’t seen people fight this way.”

“You can tell difference between what people feel?”

He sounded surprised, so I shrugged. “You know the difference between your own emotions, right? I feel emotions the same way anyone does. Nothing very magical. I just… feel more than my own.”

He considered that. “Ah. If we frighten them, then let us dance.”

I took off my Kevlar jacket, my gloves, and my helmet, and we put together a few steps. After a few seconds, Alexei murmured the steps he wanted and I followed, and we crossed the floor until the emotions of the bystanders eased.

“They’re all right now,” I murmured.

He lifted me up, put me down, and bowed over my hand. “Then we have done enough for today.”

I bowed back. “I hope we can do this again.”

“I would like so. Perhaps in two days.”

“Same time?”

He nodded. “So I shall be here.”

I had a lot to think about when I left the gym.


	4. Chapter 4

Alexei and I met every other day to spar. On the surface, he seemed to ease, but the underlying sadness I’d first sensed had deepened to the point that I decided I caused him more harm than I wanted. I asked him to lunch after our session one day, and after some hesitation, he agreed. We headed to the café over small talk. I settled with salad and soup, he with halibut and steamed vegetables.

“Alexei?” I said after we’d both had several bites.

“Yes?” he looked up apprehensively, his lips quirking reluctantly when I wrestled with a recalcitrant lettuce leaf.

“I make you uncomfortable. I feel how sad you are. I’m sorry. I don’t like to hurt people. We don’t have to spar if you don’t want to.”

He put down his fork to stare at me. “Is that why you asked me to join you for lunch? To say that?”

“Yes.”

“That is all?”

This seemed to be an unexplainably burning question for Alexei. “Well, yes. What did you expect me to say?”

Alexei put his fork down stared at his lap, his lips curving up in a rueful smile. He started to chuckle quietly, and his body relaxed.

“What, Alexei? Why are you laughing?”

He muttered something under his breath and shook his head at himself. “Forgive me, Rachel. I am too suspicious. Your question was not what I expected. I forgot that you are empath.”

He hmmed briefly, and took another bite of fish. When he’d swallowed, he looked at me curiously. “Does it hurt to feel what you do?”

“Not in the sense of pain. But I can sympathize with whatever the emotions are.”

“Meaning sometimes you do not.”

I decided to gamble a little. “If you’re asking whether I can turn my feelings on and off, the answer is yes, and sometimes I do. But not now. You said you knew something of my story. I know something of yours, too. We both have some unpleasant history. I don’t want spar with you if it dredges up angst about what you used to do for the FSB.”

Alexei’s fork hung suspended in the air for a split second before it resumed its way to his plate. His expression didn’t change, but his gaze sharpened on me and his surge of adrenaline washed over me as his body tensed.

“Ah.” He resumed chewing. “So you do speak of what I expected.”

“You thought I wanted to talk about your time in the FSB?”

Alexei’s expression turned bland, business-like, and as coldly emotionless as a statue. “I hear you are rich woman, expert in antiques. I hear Weapon X take you. Why, I do not know. Not good time. I hear training facility was destroyed in accident. I hear X-Men involved, so destruction was not accident. Extraction, I think. You know extraction?”

I nodded. “I know extraction.”

“Ah. Then you ask me to spar with you. You are inhumanly fast. Very well trained, more than what Weapon X could make of you in few weeks. Some things you do… not martial arts training. Assassin training. So I do not think you are antiques dealer. I think you want to ask me to do something that I do not want to do. Something I will not do.”

My face cleared as I Alexei’s flat anger hit me. I shook my head. “I understand now. I’m not here for such a cruel thing, Alexei. I want no part of dragging anyone into such a thing.”

Alexei slowly uncoiled. He went back to his vegetables for a few moments, moving them around his plate to give himself time to relax.

“Okay,” he said eventually. “I am sorry. I overreact.”

“I understand the problem. It’s okay.”

So why do you want to spar?” he asked curiously.

“I’ve loved martial arts for a long time. Weapon X might want to use my skills, but they couldn’t pervert my love of the practice. You’re right about what they tried to train me to be. Some of my reactions are… very fast. I won’t risk them in a regular class. You can protect yourself, both because of your skin and the high caliber of your fencing skills. But if sparring as we do bothers you, I understand.”

Alexei considered that, nodding to himself. “Is not easy to be in real world sometimes. Often I interpret motivations of others as I would when I was with FSB. So sometimes I think you spar for more than mere love of art. If you do not intend to ask me to return to work of damned, then maybe you seek to prepare yourself to do so. I do not want to spar if that is what you plan, because I am through with that world.”

“I don’t want any part of it, either.”

“I am curious about X-Men… how did they come to extract you? With your skills, perhaps you work with them?”

Alexei’s question was quiet, but something about it raised my hackles. I searched his emotions for truth behind them, but they were oddly neutral. The only hint I had to this being more than a casual question was the unblinking regard he turned on me. I swallowed.

“I’m sorry, Alexei. Maybe I overreact, too. Pardon me if I am rude. You’re a wonderful dancer. You’re also gay and a mutant. Not the things that I would think the FSB would be interested in. But for whatever reason, they turned you into the assassin I was trained to be. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d fought against some of my friends. I wouldn’t be surprised if you still had connections to your old employers. Maybe you still talk to them. I won’t put my friends at risk.”

Alexei smiled philosophically as he finished his vegetables. “You are wise to be cautious. So it appears that I must jump off cliff or conversation must end.”

He pushed his plate aside and leaned over his folded arms, his eyes downcast. I let my talents go enough to light my eyes subtly.

“You are right about my… preferences. Is joke about all male dancers.”

I shrugged. “Probably as true as the joke about all Japanese women being wonderful tea ladies and courtesans.”

He chuckled briefly. “Just so. My brother had same preferences. He was not discreet. He got himself in trouble. FSB decided that because I travel with Kirov that I would make good operative. My cooperation is price to overlook Valery’s indiscretion. FSB does not discover skin until after I am coerced, but it pleases them for reason you say. Funny. Russia does not tolerate mutants, but skin is lesser disgrace than preferences because it is asset to what they set me to do.”

I winced at the pain of Alexei’s emotions. “I’m sorry.”

Alexei’s chuckle was bitter. “So was Valery. But he had no discipline. Even in prison he continued to be indiscreet. He provided much incentive for many, many jobs. Stupid. So stupid he got himself killed. It was some months before I found out. When I did, I said no more. No more killing. No more.”

“What happened?” I asked after several seconds.

He laughed. “What could FSB do? My skin keeps me safe. My parents? Dead. My brother? Dead. I had no lovers to kill. No leverage for me to do what they want. So they shipped me to Siberia, far out over snow, and they left me there.”

“Oh, no. What did you do?”

He shrugged, and looked away towards the window of the café. “They think cold and isolation will make me comply. But I find way to escape. Thank skin again. It kept me warm. I walked and walked and walked until I crawled, then I crawled more. I found nomads. I recovered. Then I thought about how to get out of Russia.”

“How did you get out?”

He looked up at me and smiled. “I think it is your turn to jump off cliff.”

I looked away, not sure what to say. “I still don’t know whose side you’re on.”

He held up his arms wide, taking in the café. “I am on my side. I am here, I have no love of men in my homeland who killed my brother and made wreckage of my life. I was not principal at Kirov, but I could still dance. That is impossible now, even here, because I cannot risk being known. I do not want to be taken back there while those men hold my country hostage to their cruelty. Next time I will not be sent to Siberia.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. “Then to answer your question about the X-Men… I met them when my parents were assassinated. They protected me for some weeks until the assassins were caught. I’m not part of their work, but they are my friends.”

“So why does Weapon X want you?”

“I’m…. guilty by association.”

“What is ‘guilty by association’?”

“Well, you just speculated about whether I worked with the X-Men, right? I don’t, but Weapon X decided I’d provide the kind of incentive as Valery did for you.”

“You were bait for… friend.”

Friend, he’d said. Not friends. He knew about Logan. I refused to let my heartbeat jump into betraying me, and I held his gaze without a blink.

“Once, I was. Not the first time.”

Alexei’s eyes widened. “They took you more than once?”

I nodded. “They had other plans the first time. But I think they scoped me out for training once they had me, so they came after me again. That… didn’t work out like they expected.”

“There was much death.”

He wasn’t questioning me. He probably knew everything that I didn’t say. It was just as well. After all this time, all the work I’d done to defuse those memories, I still couldn’t talk about them, even if I’d been inclined. I looked down at my hands, unable to say a word.

“Do you know how many people you have killed?” he asked softly.

I swallowed. “A lot.”

“I know exactly how many I have killed.” Alexei smiled, but his emotions were full of horror and despair. “Forty-two.”

What could I say? That I’d probably accounted for that many, too? “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged it off. “Some deserved to die. Some didn’t. But for me to have been the instrument of that was wrong. Doubly wrong because it did not save my brother.”

“A friend once told me that I didn’t have to like the circumstances I was given, but that didn’t mean I had to regret my survival. He’s right.”

He looked at me sharply with recognition in his eyes. He started to speak, thought better of it, willed his body to relax, but his emotions swirled. I thought about what he had and hadn’t said…

“Who helped you to get out of Siberia, Alexei?”

His eyes widened for a second before he gave me a rueful smile. “Friend.”

“What I said reminded you of that friend.”

He nodded. “I worked as operative for nine years. Cold War was long over, but enemies of homeland were still everywhere, or so FSB said. Most times I worked alone. Sometimes I worked with small team. Sometimes I had rival for job, or had to evade those set in place to protect my target. Over time, I learned my peers, no matter what side they were on. There was respect, no matter what side we were on.”

He looked at me expectantly, hoping I’d speak. I put my mother’s poker face atop mine and held my tongue. After long minutes he shrugged.

“I sat in slums of Odessa for two months. Eventually I got message to right hands. To enemy. Man who got me out.”

He meant Logan. I knew that in the core of my bones. But I didn’t speak. I wasn’t going to put his name out there. The very fact that Alexei hadn’t mentioned Logan once during this recitation told me he was avoiding the subject for a reason.

“Sounds more like a friend.”

“Eh, world is strange. I am grateful to man that few call friend, who has cut far wider swath than I have. He said to regret circumstances but not survival, too.”

I looked down at my hands and concentrated on keeping my own emotions even, calm, serene.

“I enjoy sparring with you and would like to continue,” Alexei said quietly. “But now that we know where we stand, perhaps there are questions you want to ask.”

I decided to answer Alexei’s question exactly as I shouldn’t. “I don’t want to be an assassin, Alexei. I know too much about that already. I’m not that good, by the way. I lack the ability to divorce myself from the humanity of a situation and I kill only when I’m severely threatened. But I do want to know if you have it out for any of my friends. If you don’t, would you teach me how a team works in the field?”

He laughed. “More very rude and impertinent questions, Rachel Osaka. They seek window into very dirty world, a world where most words are lies. Maybe my words would be lies.”

“I’d be able to tell.”

“Ah,” he conceded. “Just as well. I am very tired of lying. But let me ask you rude question, Rachel. Why do you want to know such things?”

“One day I might have to help a friend.”

He grinned. “Friend? Not friends?”

I smiled reluctantly back. “Unfortunately, I have more than one who might need such help.”

“Some more than others, yes?” he challenged, but he didn’t press. “If your friends are like man who trusted me after what he knew of me, then I do not have it out for them. Only people I have it out for, as you put it, are those who ensnare people such as us. But I am not sure I want to tell you how assassination team works in field.”

“Not an assassination team. An extraction team. To back up my friends the way they backed me up. I keep what I learn to myself. I’m not looking for work.”

He nodded, rolling the idea around. “Okay. But is hard not to cross line sometimes, to kill or not.”

“I’ve been on both sides of that line already.”

He smiled. “Then we will talk sometimes. But mostly sparring, dancing.”

“Thank you, Alexei. This was hard.”

He smiled again, an expression full of too much to sort out. “We all do hard things for love.”

I should have paid more attention to that sentiment.


	5. Chapter 5

While I sparred with Alexei and learned about extractions, Daniel kept watch. Logan’s latest job was supposed to be winding down, but to no one’s surprise it cycled into a new one. My skin prickled when I discovered that Logan’s new assignment was a questionable extraction and delivery that raised more questions than it answered, because that was just what Alexei was teaching me. It was time to find Logan and tell him everything. Daniel packaged every scrap of information we’d amassed in a data drop that would unfurl its contents into a human brain as fast as a hypodermic full of drugs would deliver medicine to the bloodstream. All I had to do was to get it into Logan’s ear canal and trigger it. It wasn’t a free ride, however. It was meant for do-or-die situations requiring a rapid delivery, and the price of that was as little as unconsciousness and as much as convulsions or heart stoppage. If he survived that, he’d probably be severely disoriented for some time afterwards. I added an emergency dose of adrenaline to my kit in case I had to deal with the heart problem. That wouldn’t solve all the problems –Daniel had traced Logan to somewhere in the middle of Romania where a local dust-up currently raged.

Please, no jokes about Transylvania and vampires. Daniel delivered his information packaged in so many Dracula jokes that I never wanted to hear another.

It may have been easy for Daniel to find Logan in the middle of Romania, but it wasn’t so easy to find a way to get me there. Daniel let me gnaw at it for the morning before he took matters into his own hands. He invited me to dinner, not telling me that his other guest that night was Hank McCoy, the X-Men’s Beast. I found out only when I walked into Daniel’s apartment.

Hank is a dear friend. He’d helped me sort through everything that’d happened to me over the past two years. When he offered to use the X-Men’s Blackbird to drop me close enough to reach Logan, I wasn’t tempted to drop my friendship with him. It was what he asked in exchange…

He wanted me to see Jean Gray.

Logan wrote about what happened when he and the X-Men rescued me from Weapon X. I’d projected terror to stop the soldiers from killing Scott. But in doing so, I’d terribly hurt my X-Men friends, especially Jean. My projections had easily penetrated the shields that Professor Xavier had erected inside Jean’s mind to guard her from the unstable and dangerous talents she was not yet able to master, and that had nearly unmade her, which in turn had nearly unmade the universe. Neither Professor Xavier nor Scott had forgiven me for that. Even worse, the Professor had rejected Logan as if he’d been the one to orchestrate what I’d done. I accepted my ostracism, but Logan should not have had to bear the loss of one of the few groups of people he’d gotten close to over the years.

“Why do you want me to see Jean?” I asked Hank evenly. I held my emotions, my projections, in tight control so that I wouldn’t inflict my apprehension on either of my friends.

Hank had the grace to look down at his hands in embarrassment. “Neither the Professor nor Scott know I’m asking you, Rachel. Jean doesn’t know, either. This is all on my own. It may do no good, and it may put me in the doghouse with you in the eyes of all three. Not that I liked how they treated you.”

“I understand why they did. I accept their reaction. It’s their rejection of Logan that I don’t accept. That hurt him more than they understand –“

“I know they did,” Hank admitted tiredly, holding up a hand in concession. “I understand that you’re angrier about that than you are for your own sake. I don’t ask this because I think it’ll heal any part of that breach. I’m asking because it might help Jean. Despite how unfair the Professor and Scott’s reactions are, I know you’re compassionate and caring, Rachel. If you saw Jean… she’s a shadow of herself. I think you’d want to help her if you could.”

I fell silent. Daniel let the silence drag for several seconds, but gently prodded things along as he refilled our wine glasses.

“I thought Jean had recovered,” he observed quietly. “That’s what Rogue told me.”

Hank shrugged. “She’s not catatonic, and that’s certainly an improvement. But she’s far from herself. She’s very tentative, very unsure about everything. The professor has put back the protective shields around her uncontrollable powers, but she’s loath to use any power at all, even ones she handled expertly before. It’s hard for any of us who know her to watch what she’s become.”

I shut my eyes. It was impossible to ignore the regret and concern of Hank’s emotions swirling so thickly around me.

“What do you think I can do to help? I was the one who destroyed Jean’s shields in the first place.”

Technically, you didn’t destroy anything,” Hank corrected. “Your empathic skills passed shields that were never meant to contain them. Jean destroyed the shields herself when she couldn’t differentiate between emotive and telepathic powers.”

“You’re picking a nit, Hank. I was the instrument, whether I actually did it or not.”

“Maybe,” Hank conceded. “Whichever isn’t important. And to be honest, I’m not sure you can do anything. Even the Professor hasn’t been able to make any progress in the past several weeks. That may be because he’s not the empath you are. He’s a telepath, and Jean’s problems don’t lie in that area. Maybe… I don’t know, Rachel. Maybe your empathy can find a way to ease Jean’s apprehensions. Maybe your projective talents can ease her. It may be a long shot, but I don’t know what else to try.”

“I’m not welcome at the Institute, Hank, and it doesn’t sound like Jean’s in any shape to venture away from it.”

“I’ll sneak you in,” Hank said firmly. Once you’re in, I hardly think that the Professor or Scott will throw you out. Especially when they find that Ororo, Rogue, Kurt, Kitty, and Peter are in this with me.”

“And so am I,” Daniel said firmly.

I bowed my head over my knees. “The last thing I want is to start a war between the X-Men.”

“Then please say you’ll try to help one of them. Just try. If you’ll do that, then the Black Bird and everything the X-Men have at our disposal is yours to get you to Logan and then get the both of you out. A lot of us aren’t happy about his ostracism.”

I exhaled nervously. What did I honestly think I could do for Jean? But Hank had been clear that he didn’t expect a miracle, only that I try. I could do that.

“Do you think… somehow… that the Professor and Scott would reconsider their position on Logan? If they want to exclude me, I accept that. But to cut one of the few ties Logan has with any group of people, one of the few refuges he has… and for something he didn’t do… that is so wrong.”

Hank nodded. “I can’t promise anything, Rachel, just as you can’t promise anything about trying to help Jean. But I’ll do my best, as I know you will.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “After I find Logan and get him out of whatever he’s in, I’ll do whatever I can for Jean, without reservation.”

Hank smiled. “Thank you. You and Daniel just name the time when you need the Black Bird, and I’ll be there.”

I looked at Daniel. “How soon can you get an update on Logan’s whereabouts?”

Daniel’s eyes danced in a blur as he communed with his “little beasties,” as he called the electronic data flow. In a second or two, he focused on me again.

“They’re on the move tae some base camp. Better sleep well tonight, because tomorrow they ought tae settle long enough for Hank tae drop you intae their midst.”

“Flight time to Romania is three hours, conservatively,” Hank said. “I assume you want to drop at night?”

I nodded.

“Then I’ll pick you up at three tomorrow afternoon. Will anyone object if I drop the jet on the lawn, Daniel?”

Daniel grinned. “A few people might like tae climb aboard, but there’ll be no problem otherwise.”

“So I’ll see you at three tomorrow.” Hank rose to go. “Which means I need to get out of here. A few of us have some dissembling to do to explain why I’m taking the jet out for a spin. I think Kurt’s going to have his first flight training lesson.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, I chuckled. “Does he know that yet?”

Hank laughed. “He volunteered, my dear. He’s looking forward to seeing you again.”

Hank gave me a kiss at the door, and shook Daniel’s hand in farewell. “See you two tomorrow.”

“I’d better head across the hall, too,” I said. “I won’t be carrying much, but I have a few things to stow before I head out tomorrow. Thanks for dinner, Daniel.”

“My pleasure, lass,” Daniel grinned, giving me his own good-bye kiss. “Try tae sleep, all right?”

That wasn’t easy. In fact, it was impossible. So impossible that, despite all reasons not to, I found myself trekking to the gym shortly after midnight. Maybe exhaustion would tempt sleep to come my way if reason wouldn’t.

It didn’t surprise me that Alexei showed up twenty minutes after I’d warmed up. His body was a lot calmer than his emotions were, which sawed back and forth between uncertainty and apprehension. There was also coldness there, or perhaps it was numbness. Overlaying that, nearly obliterating it, was enough conflict that I wondered about his intentions. He bowed to me in his usual charming, old world way, hands behind him, but his body was coiled, as if this were no practice bout he entered.

“It seems that I am not only one who cannot sleep,” he said with a smile.

“It happens,” I ventured, not lowering my katana.

“I am not here to fence,” he said gently, and brought his hands from behind his back. He held a sheathed knife in his right hand. I stepped back a pace. Alexei was right handed, but he was not any slower with a blade in his off hand.

“Are you here to assassinate me?” I asked sharply.

His face spasmed in shock, but the tension stayed rampant in his body. “You go after your friend.”

I kept my eyes on his. I’d learned that they flickered the barest instant before he made the most devastating of his attacks. “What do you mean?”

“You have been very intense in our sessions for past week, Rachel. This intensity I know well, so I made habit to watch here every night. I think that before whatever you steel yourself to do, you will find sleep elusive. Such moment has arrived. I arrive to offer you this.”

He indicated the knife in its sheath.

“What’s that?”

He eased the blade out of its sheath, but carefully, taking pains to hold the end of the hilt between thumb and forefinger, in a way that would seem hard to throw at me. As good as Alexei was, though, I kept my eyes on his, giving the blade but a quick glance.

“This is old friend. Much used, unfortunately. It has helped me to return home safely many times. Your friend... I… owe him great deal. I would not want to see him taken by enemies, whoever they are.”

He sheathed the blade and stooped to put it on the floor between us.

“If all you wanted to do was bring me a present, then why are you so nervous?”

He laughed uneasily and swept his hand up and down, indicating my stance. “You are… quite nervous yourself. On what is called ‘hair trigger,’ yes? I do not fool myself to think that you are easy target for anyone.”

He backed up a step or two. “Dosvedanya, Rachel.”

He would have retreated, but he turned when I called his name. He looked at me curiously.

“Thank you.”

He smiled sadly and bowed again. “It is good thing to practice, not to drop your guard. You should be this vigilant during every moment of this extraction.”

I saluted him with my katana. “I appreciate the advice.”

He retreated as quietly as he had entered.

When the sound of his quiet footsteps had died, I stooped to pick up Alexei’s offering. It was a stiletto, as elegantly simple as it was lethally efficient. This was his favored weapon, the blade that he had used to assassinate so many of his victims, and there was as much despair as hope radiating from it, as much of Alexei’s agony as of those he had killed. More than that, it was a study in compromised judgment, choices made between bad and worse alternatives. Maybe Alexei had meant it as a good luck charm, but it whispered more of disaster than anything else.

For a long moment, I wanted to abandon this madness, this reckless foray into a filthy world I knew nothing about, and where I would probably find nothing but death. Then I thought about Logan, and knew I couldn’t do anything else but what I planned.

I did my worst with my katana for an hour before taking my exhausted body off to bed. I took Alexei’s stiletto with me and didn’t try to sort out why he gave it to me. I did, however, take his warning to heart.


	6. Chapter 6

The next afternoon, Hank arrived in the Black Bird right on schedule. I was already by the side of the lawn with Daniel so that the Black Bird wouldn’t have to linger. Daniel had let the Sanctuary residents know what was coming, so more people watched for the landing than I would’ve preferred. But it turned out that the jet hovered so far above the lawn that people didn’t get much of a view. Kurt bampfed into view beside me, his wide grin somewhat leavened with the gravity of the occasion. He knew Daniel of course, and exchanged hellos with him easily. A quick good-bye, and Kurt took my arm to teleport us up to the jet. As Kurt and I strapped in, Hank took the jet into the stratosphere.

As we raced across the Atlantic, crossing time zones at a dizzying rate, I caught a few more moments of sleep. Kurt woke me an hour before Hank expected to drop me off. I checked my gear carefully, from mundane things like power bars, water bottle, and night vision glasses, to more sinister ones such as my katana and wakizashi, an Uzi, and a knife or two, including Alexei’s. I double-checked the data drop in a zippered pocket inside my black fatigues, making sure it was safe.

As Kurt watched my preparations, his apprehension whispered to my talents as clearly as if he’d spoken. Maybe watching me catalog my weapons brought home how precarious this venture was. I didn’t feel too confident about my sanity, either, so when Daniel’s telemetry on Logan’s position appeared on my retina, I jumped.

“Are you all right, Liebchen?” Kurt asked.

“Daniel sent Logan’s position. Hank, I’m routing it to your comm. If you’d drop me about ten kilometers out, that would do it.”

Hank swiveled to look at me soberly, but didn’t speak as the data appeared on his flight screen. He chewed his lip, then looked back at me.

“That’s a long haul on foot, Rachel.”

“Logan would hear the jet if you drop me closer.”

Hank may have sat quietly at the jet controls, but his emotions swirled into Kurt’s with uncomfortable insistence.

“It’s pitch black, Rachel –”

“I see better in the dark than you do. Almost as well as Logan,” I stretched. “And I have night vision goggles.”

“You’ll have to handle the sentries after you walk in all that way –”

“Do you want me to try to help Jean or not?” I asked quietly. I didn’t like being so blunt, but I was already nervous, and if Hank raised too many objections I might never get off the jet.

Hank waved a hand in concession. “Okay. Is your telemetry up?”

“It never goes down, Hank. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“I wish you didn’t think you had to do this.”

“I wish I didn’t, either,” I agreed. “But I like someone hunting Logan even less.”

Hank’s eyes held mine as he reached over the jet console to press a button. “The gate’s down. We’ll be close by when you need us to pick up. Just sing out.”

“I will. Thanks.”

Kurt suddenly stirred himself. “I vill help you mit the line.”

I hooked myself up under his watchful eyes, and hugged him hard before I jumped away from the jet. The wind buffeted me and I had the worst feeling of panic until my feet touched the ground, but I didn’t let myself do anything other than unhook the line and watch it reel out of reach. Hank sent his farewell, and the jet headed skyward.

There was a bampf and smell of brimstone, and Kurt stood beside me.

“What’re you doing here?” I asked in surprise.

“I can get you closer mitout so much notice,” he offered. “Mitout so much valking.”

“I thought you had to see where you’re going. That’s why I had to use the line down.”

I felt Kurt’s rueful amusement, even if I didn’t see his smile. “I see better in zhe dark than I let on. I vas hoping that if you had to use zhe line, you vould back down, Liebchen. But since you did not, I might as well save you a long valk.”

“It almost did,” I confessed. “I don’t like doing this, Kurt. But you know why I have to.”

He patted my arm gently. “I know. Just tell me zhe vay to go.”

I looked out into the dark, and let my talents go. I sensed no one in the half-klick range of my senses. I checked the telemetry, and oriented myself towards my target. “That way, only half a klick.”

As soon as Kurt tucked my hand in the crook of his arm, we were a half-kilometer away. I checked again, and squeezed Kurt’s hand. We made three more jumps before I sensed anyone. I held up a hand to Kurt, and released my hold on his arm.

“Ve shall be close to gegen Sie aus vhen you need us. Just call,” he whispered.

“Danke schön,” I whispered back.

“Vielen Glück,” he wished me, and was gone.

I melted into the nearest shadow and let my senses take things in. It was as cold as I expected the dead of night in Romania to be during November. Even with night vision goggles, there wasn’t much to see. Bare trees and scrub suggested only vague outlines around me, not enough for me to know what kind they were. I sensed more than saw the rolling landscape with the Carpathian Mountains looming off to my left. All in all, I felt like I stood on a bare, darkened stage with only the most minimal suggestions of what play I might be in. Hardly reassuring.

There was a swirl of emotion almost at the edge of my range from a single person. I settled my backpack firmly, adjusted my night vision glasses, and made sure my wakizashi was near to hand. Then I edged closer. Soon a corrugated metal Quonset hut loomed ahead of me. It looked old enough to be a remnant of the Second World War. My senses told me that the sentry stood silently beside the trunk of a tree close to the entrance. I started for the emotion swirl with all the stealth I possessed.

My approach took longer than I wanted, but I was quiet and patient, and soon enough the hilt of my wakizashi smashed into his temple with hardly any noise. I lowered him to the ground as quietly as I could, but one arm flapped against the side of the hut before I could stop it, making a scraping sound. I had to hurry. If Logan were anywhere near, then he would’ve heard that noise and be instantly suspicious. The guard was not much taller than I was, if very muscled, so I easily dragged him into the bushes and bound his hands behind him with plastic handcuffs that looked more like a computer cable tie than anything else. I bound his feet in the same way, then groped for his dog tag. I let my eyes light enough that I could read the name and number.

S. Druze. xxx-xxx-xxxx.

As fast as I read it, information appeared on my retina. Samantha Druze – a woman? – was a black Jamaican immigrant to Bermuda by way of Somalia. Her hair was as short as any male grunt’s, and her compact frame held not an ounce of fat. Her code name was Scorpion, and she was a mutant with strong telekinesis abilities. She’d been kicked from one direly poor situation to the next all of her short life, scrabbling along by attaching herself to whatever band of thugs was in power at the time. Such groups rarely stay in power for long, often self-destructing when they turned on their own, and given how many of them Scorpion had been affiliated with, that had been the norm. She’d gained enough proficiency with weapons to be the lead thug’s personal bodyguard in several groups. I suspected that the “bodyguard” designation covered more than the usual protective duties, given the tastes of the groups she’d served. Maybe she’d gotten tired of that, because during the past couple of years she’d stuck out as a free mercenary with a fire starter named Tiger. She’d lob bombs at an enemy and he’d light them at the opportune time, making them a valued pair for guerrilla forays. Tiger had done a few stints as a bounty hunter, though Scorpion had not.

I wondered if I’d find Tiger inside.

I didn’t have time to wonder. I sheathed my wakizashi and flitted to the door. A single breath was all I allowed myself before I eased inside.

A highway Quonset hut would’ve been filled with sand, gravel, or whatever Romania used on their highways in bad weather. This one was miles away from the nearest road in the middle of a scrubby forest, and it didn’t hold road salt. Instead, it looked like some sort of storage drop. Crates were piled on both sides of the central aisle. An all-terrain transport truck was parked about halfway down. Behind it were more stacked boxes that shielded the glow of a lamp at the very back of the building.

I didn’t see anyone, but around me swirled the rough emotions of men who’d try to kill me as soon as they discovered they’d been invaded. I gathered in those swirls and their echoing time trails. Three men hovered in the crates of equipment to my left. Logan was at the back where the lamp shone. His emotions were rougher than I was used to, but tightly focused. Maybe he studied a map or other document.

No one was near the crates on my right. That might offer some cover.

I thought about walking in openly, but I expected that these men were expert enough marksmen to place a lethal shot that my light body armor couldn’t withstand. I needed a hostage.

I glided to the crates on the left and held my breath as the auras came to me. I waited until I saw the shadows of one of the men come towards the door, and I put myself close to where he’d be. He was a tall man, knotted with stringy muscles and years of hard living. His skin was as tanned as cowhide and he wore his blond and brown striped hair in a short mohawk with a long, thin tail dangling nearly to his waist. I checked my telemetry quickly – yes, this was Tiger, Scorpion’s partner. He was dressed in worn black fatigue pants and hardworn but sturdy boots with heavily lugged soles. A frayed black Henley tee shirt with torn-off sleeves left his long, thin, but powerful arms bare. The tattoos on his biceps and forearms had long ago been muddied and torn by what looked like shrapnel scars.

I put the time trails aside as he came beside me in real time. When he passed, I powered panic at him and swung the butt of my Uzi. He was too blinded by the emotion to see the physical blow, and he stumbled to his knees. I twisted one wiry arm behind him until he gasped, jerked his head back, and wound his long rat-tail of hair around his wrist, clamping them together with my hand. Jamming my Uzi into his ribs, I was about to drag him out into the open –

A man materialized in front of me. His clothing was as well worn as Tiger’s, though not a match. Physically, he looked like nothing in particular, just a slight, bent frame with his head thrust forward as if he hunted by smell. His hair was wispy brown and his ears stuck out like a spindly kid’s. He cocked his head jerkily and stared at me as unblinkingly as a sinister puppet. He had an eerie, unnerving laugh that sounded like a hyena. He pulled out a long, thin knife from his boot and took a step towards me.

“Another stinking mutant,” he cackled. “What’s your talent, little girl?”

Suddenly he ran right at me. I’d already seen his move ahead of time and smashed the butt of my Uzi into my hostage’s temple, laying him out. Then I dodged between the crates, pulling the laughing man’s auras to me. His emotions were a wild tangle, little more than those of a mindless berserker.

“I scare people to death,” I whispered, and focused the same unnerving panic on him that I’d used on Tiger, but more of it. It hit him with all the subtlety of a tank, and he started to shriek with a high-pitched howl. Another bolt and I put him down in a dead faint.

The one hulking behind him wasn’t particularly big or small, fast or slow, but he was formidable in other ways. His head was long and blocky with what looked like a horn protruding from each temple. His brown eyes were large and liquid, strangely calm and beautiful. Like his compatriots, he wore dark mismatched clothing that obscured his body, but that body held the strength of the ox he resembled. He started after me with calm bovine determination. Despite his size, he was hard to see in the dark, and his emotions were no less easy to reach. His brain was just as solid as his body – no fears to exploit, no imagination, just single-minded devotion to whatever duty he was given. He was too strong to tackle head-on, but that was what I’d have to do. He chased me around the crates, driving me before him like a bull pressing a toreador.

Where was Logan? Was he oblivious? He had to know I was here –

Behind me, the ox plowed on, and it was that unvarying, implacable drive that told me how to best him. I’d been right from the start that he was too strong for me. That meant I could pound my hardest, and I wouldn’t make a mistake trying to merely wound him. I grabbed a hammer from an open toolbox, then let the ox get close enough to whack him across the face so hard that I blew nearly all the air out of my body. It would’ve killed anyone else, but all it did to him was make him look at me thoughtfully with those beautiful, long-lashed eyes before he waded back in. Next time, I stuck that one spot where the deltoid joins the back of the neck with all I had, staggering him. I did it again. I hit him three more times. He only looked at me askance, but I kept pounding with every gram of force I could muster on that same spot. It took two more to bring him to his knees, then a final one for him to finally keel over.

Logan stepped into the light.

I dropped the hammer and got to my feet. There was no recognition in Logan’s eyes, no mercy in the fury that buffeted me. His subvocalized rage pounded my chest like a bass drum. For the first time I realized why so many people thought of him as ugly. He wasn’t – I loved his wolf’s mane of black, silky hair and muttonchop sideburns, his widow’s peak, his deep blue eyes that could glimmer with a smile when the rest of him didn’t. But when his eyes met mine this time, I believed every horror story I’d ever heard – the mindless berserker rages that left dozens dead, the assassinations, the unstoppable drive to exact the most brutal revenge. His rage washed over me like acid – frightening, inhuman, cruel. His body bunched with all the aggression of a shark coiling itself tightly before the lethal drive forward with teeth agape.

“Are any of them telepaths? Speak Japanese?” I snapped in Japanese.

I received no answer, just the rising pressure of his subvocalizations.

“Do you remember me, Logan-san?” I said more softly. “Yogensha, Omen? You are the samurai of my house. You remember my scent. You remember who I am. You know you can trust me.”

His bearing didn’t change, but his emotions grew unsure, suspicious. He sniffed once, twice, and maybe the edge of his fury calmed.

“Logan-san. I have intel you need. Let me give it to you.”

He unsheathed his claws slowly, but his emotions grew even more uncertain.

I didn’t want to, but I drew my katana and wakizashi. I projected as much calm, as much affection as I could.

“Please, Logan-san. You need this intel. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have to be.”

“You waltz in here,” he snarled, “you compromise –”

“Do you remember a man suckled by a she wolf, and how he murdered his twin for the rule of the city named after him?”

Logan stiffened and he didn’t breathe for a moment, but his surprise didn’t last long. His hair still bristled around his head like the ruff of a threatening wolf. His eyes still glared with inhuman rage. His hands still flexed as if he ached to sheathe his claws in my body.

“You stand down, or I make pieces of you.”

Logan had often told me that if I ever feared for my safety at his hands, I was to do all in my power to protect myself. I prayed that I wasn’t a fool to ignore that advice. I took a step away from the ox, sheathed my blades, and stood in front of Logan without defense. When Tiger tried to tackle me, I backed him off with a slap of terror, but that was the only move I made. I bet everything on the slim hope that Logan would control his rage.

He pulled in his claws. But when he reached a hand out to grab me, I backed out of range. I couldn’t afford to submit to his alpha posturing, not with his crew looking on. He glowered, but he kept his distance.

“This better be damn’ good, or I’ll kick your butt so hard you won’t live to tell the tale.”

He growled in English at Tiger to back off. As Tiger’s animosity and embarrassment flooded me, I remembered Alexei’s advice to keep my talents at their sharpest. I noted Tiger’s emotions, but didn’t react to them as I followed Logan out into the open center aisle behind the transport. Foremost of my concerns was the mixture of Logan’s fury, confusion, uncertainty, and suspicion.

He eyed the Uzi. “Got your nerve walkin’ in here with that and not usin’ it.”

“I’m not interested in killing someone just to get your attention.”

“If you’re tryin’ to set yourself in the peckin’ order, you shoulda said that in English. It mighta impressed ‘em.”

“If they’re smart, it’s already registered that I took all of them down without breathing hard, and I let them walk away from it. By the way, you need to untie your sentry.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “I haven’t let you walk away yet.”

Logan’s menacing tone drew Tiger’s snicker, even if he didn’t understand Japanese. “Just use the short blade for what it was made for, girlie, and save Wolverine the trouble.”

In my world, I would’ve ignored that. But this was Logan’s world, Testosterone City. So I turned on Tiger, drawing my katana to shear off a piece of the long tail of hair trailing over his chest, then I put the wakizashi at his throat, both before he so much as twitched.

“This is what I use it for,” I said conversationally in English.

Tiger cursed. His time trails told me that he was marshaling his fire-starting talents, and I gathered another dose of terror to power at him if I felt the least ripple of an attack. But Logan came between us to grab the front of my jacket and the front of Tiger’s shirt. He shook us both hard.

“Back off, both of you,” Logan snarled in English. “And you, cut Hyena loose.”

The crazy man was still gibbering to himself. I flicked calm at him. When he stopped howling, I got a hard stare from Tiger, but I didn’t react.

Logan pointed to the back of the building. “Now.”

“Roger,” I said without any sarcasm, and went where he pointed. I was in, but precariously. Maybe I should’ve listened to Daniel, and Hank, and Kurt, and Alexei… and myself.


	7. Chapter 7

Sonofabitch, but this was one fucked-up job. SNAFU, TARFU, and FUBAR didn’t begin to cover it.

I had a mission that was as flimsy as dried leaves. I had a tiny Japanese _bushi_ with creepy eyes and a head full of terror blundering where she didn’t belong. I had a rabble of mongrel strays who’d just gotten their balls handed to them by said _bushi_ , and now they all wanted to return the favor. I had a head full of rage that wanted to throttle said _bushi_ for shoving her way in here –

Why was I so full of rage?

I dimly remembered when that _bushi_ had been balm to my senses…

Yogensha. Omen, she said. She called me the samurai of her house.

I remembered her as Rachel Osaka.

She called me Logan-san. Logan-kyoshi. Her samurai of House Osaka.

I called her my woman.

Why’d it taken me so long to remember?

What the hell was Rachel doing here? She was an antiques dealer – no, no, she had been, but she’d given it up because of what Weapon X had done to her –

Damn it, why was this so confused? The scrambled eggs that passed for my brain –

Someone had fucked with my brain again.

Shit, they’d done it to me again!

Why didn’t they want me to remember Rachel? Was that why she was here? Did she realize that getting here had been easy, and that staying on top of the mongrels wasn’t going to be?

She said she had intel. Stuff I needed.

She wouldn’t be here without a damned good reason. Whatever the reason, I could trust her. She was the only one on this job I could say that about. I’d at least hear her out.

The only thing that would move Rachel to do something so desperate, so stupid… she thought I was at risk.

She was my woman. Not a black ops player. She didn’t have the experience or the skills —

She’d spent months getting exactly that from Weapon X. Given the mess she’d made of the mongrels, she had the experience and the skills in spades.

I followed Rachel back to the mess corner and pointed to one of the crates. She sheathed her blades and sat without argument, but it wasn’t on the crate I pointed to. She chose one that put her back to the nearest wall. She was awake enough to keep her enemies in front of her, then. Didn’t impress me. What the hell was she thinking, a civ for all she didn’t look it, a babe in the woods among this lot of killers, horning in on my –

That artificial rage – I swallowed it down, certain now that it was an overlay. I turned to Rachel and found her inscrutable behind her glowing eyes, her body language no longer cold menace, but certainly not calm, conciliatory, or apologetic. It was wary, considering, a defensive posture waiting to see what attack would ensue. Smart woman. Maybe not smart enough.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” I snarled under my breath, barely audible to Rachel’s enhanced hearing and in Japanese to boot. “Do you know what lethal force is? Do you know any of those guys would’ve used it to kill you in a heartbeat? What the hell kinda stunt did you pull to get into this –”

“Do you want my intel or not?” Rachel said quietly. “I don’t know what your time table is, but I expect it’s short.”

“What do you care?”

Her hands signed out her reply. She didn’t trust the situation enough to speak, even in Japanese.

_Son of the wolf._

Romulus? That name scared me like nothing else did. Why couldn’t I remember anything about it? How come my body remembered what my sieve of a brain didn’t? From somewhere came the memory of a strong, exotic aroma, a combination of oils that masked his scent –

How did Rachel know about him?

When I lifted my hands to reply, Rachel cut me off.

_I suspect that at least one of your crew is his agent. I’ve brought something that can tell you everything I know very fast._

_How?_

_I have to reach in a pocket. I’ll do it slowly._

_Let’s have it._

She reached into her jacket pocket, flicking a brief look to either side, but no one moved. She eased out a small earpiece with a data drop attached to it, showing it to me for only a second before she put it back in her pocket.

_What’s on it?_

_Everything about your past that you can’t remember. Everything Weapon X had about your life, what they put you through, your life before that. Everything I have about who I think is the puppet master. It’ll scare you to death when the data floods in. Even if it doesn’t, it will likely give you seizures for a minute or two. After that, you’ll be out of it for about 15 minutes while everything processes and reintegrates in your brain. Whatever memories get dredged up may confuse you for longer than that._

_Why now? Why in the middle of this job?_

Rachel’s face remained inscrutable, but her scent suffused with worry. _You’ve been working straight for three months, running from one job to the next, each more desperate than the one before. You don’t remember me well, so someone’s altered your memories. And your teammates – one’s insane, one’s got a long, sordid history of bounty hunting, one’s served so many shady rebel bands that she wouldn’t know fair play if it bit her, and one’s mute and can’t talk about what he sees. Someone’s setting you up._

_For what?_

_Maybe killing Victor Creed upset the balance that the son of the wolf set between the two of you. Maybe he wants to claim you for his own more overtly than before. Maybe my intel will make that harder._

What Rachel said sounded so far fetched…

When had my life been anything but? I’d lost count of how often I’d been set up, beaten up, and thrown out with the garbage. Rachel had been the only sanity in my life for a long time.

The fact that every hair on my body was bristling and my hands wanted to make meat out of her told me that I’d better listen. Someone had fucked with my brain real hard this time, and I wanted to know why.

 _Fifteen minutes?_ I signed.

She nodded. _Better tell me about this job before you take the drop. Your team doesn’t like me._

She looked so matter-of-fact, a far cry from the broken antiques dealer I’d met long ago, that I couldn’t resist a perverse smile. All that someone had wanted me to forget about this woman was coming back.

“Basic extraction with a twist,” I said in near silent Japanese. “Real short notice. Defector on the run. Other side’s in pursuit. Gettin’ him out’s gonna be touch and go.”

Something pricked like recognition in Rachel’s eyes. “Who is he?”

“My own kind. Professional wolf.”

Here eyes lit again with more than her talents, but all she asked was his name. When I told her, she seemed to focus elsewhere for a moment. Before I could say anything, she asked when the pickup was.

“Shootin’ for tomorrow, more or less. It’s iffy because his handlers are in close pursuit. But that’s the least of your problems.”

She looked elsewhere again. “Oh?”

“You say I’ll be out for fifteen minutes?”

She nodded.

“You kicked their balls pretty hard,” I said, pointing my chin past her where the mongrels lurked. “That fifteen minutes might be the longest of your life. Hope you live through it.”

Her expression stayed almost the same, but I thought I imagined a smile.

“You think that’s funny, kid?”

She met my eyes straightly. “It reminds me of the Swiss boarding school my parents sent me to when I was fifteen. A lot of posturing there, too.”

“These mongrels ain’t kids, kid.”

“Neither were some of the girls in that school. So tell your mongrels that I’m here to improve the intel for your iffy extraction. It might give them a reason to back off a hair.”

“Give me a reason to believe you can back that claim up.”

“Retinal telemetry.”

Cybernetic implants, she meant. That’s why she’d seemed to look elsewhere. She was reading stuff on the back of her eyeballs. I’d had friends fry themselves with implants, but Rachel sat before me as calmly as if she sat in a dojo.

“What’s it tell you about the target?”

Her eyes didn’t get vague this time. “Last reported position was 40 kilometers north of here. Heart of the mountains. Two teams are in close pursuit. You may not be able to wait until morning.”

I didn’t like her being able to tell me that. Didn’t like that she was so calm about it, either.

I liked the rest of this job even less. I glowered at her again, then barked at the others to join us.


	8. Chapter 8

I let out a surreptitious sigh of relief when Logan called his team in. Logan’s emotions told me that despite the brainwashing and the snarling, he’d figured out who I was. I’d lived through Step One, to get Logan’s attention.

It occurred to me that whoever was set here to watch Logan might not know who he or she ultimately worked for. That amount of indirection seemed typical for Romulus. I’d think about that more after I had something other than combat to mull about Logan’s team.

The other thing that stuck me was the similarity to Alexei’s extraction. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that some of Logan’s extractions were similar efforts to help other kindred spirits to escape. Such jobs had to be even touchier than Logan’s usual fare. He’d never be one to drop his guard on any job, but knowing one of his own kind was involved might persuade him tolerate even more uncertainty than he usually did.

It was the perfect job to suck him into Romulus’ clutches.

Still, the smell of his suspicion remained clear. I hoped it was directed more at the mongrels than me, as Logan had referred to them. When I turned my full attention on the men and woman obeying Logan’s summons, my talents were wide open. If my glowing eyes creeped them out, so much the better.

First, there was more posturing to dispense with. Logan’s team tried to arrange itself in a circle with me in the center. As two of them positioned themselves behind me, one to either side, I got off the box and put myself on the perimeter of the circle, not too close to Logan, but to his left. Let them think of me as the Left Hand of Darkness.

This was no time for frivolity, I cautioned myself.

Of course, Scorpion tried to edge behind me, but I kept my face to her. Logan snorted.

“Cut the shit,” he growled at Scorpion, glaring until she joined the rough circle. “This is Cobra. Our intel officer. She tells me the position of our target’s even dicier than we expected. Two teams in hot pursuit forty klicks from here. So I’m gonna make this short.”

Logan introduced each of his team with a nod and a few terse words. As I got a clear visual of each, my telemetry returned the details that Logan left out.

I’d already scoped out Scorpion. Leon Hamilton, aka Tiger, had a bad temper that flamed as often as his incendiary talents. While he’d been in the US Marines for a while, he’d left under less than honorable circumstances. He’d linked up with Scorpion in the Caribbean. Given her time with several unsavory subversives in Africa before she’d fled to Bermuda, it was easy to understand why she’d pair with someone as ill tempered as she was.

Taurus, Rama Massoud, was a mute and supplied the heavy lifting of the team. His mutant gift was night vision in addition to his vast strength. He was also a mechanical whiz, originally from Algiers. That part of the world was not kind to anyone with physical handicaps, but his gift with mechanicals had at least given him a way to earn a living. His strength and silence had made him a sought-out commodity for more than one paramilitary group, and he had a long history of playing the tank. After Tiger and Scorpion did their work, Taurus and Hyena leveled whatever was left. Hyena, Tom Casselthwaite, was a Brit and the one non-mutant in the lot. He was as certifiably crazy as I’d suspected, was lethal with knives, and fell into an unstoppable berserker frenzy at the drop of a hat. He wasn’t the easiest person to direct, but he was the man you wanted in a firefight.

The fleeing agent Logan was after was Evan Cooke. Another Englishman, he’d seen years of service in Eastern Europe, most of it in his mother’s homeland of Poland. Something had gone sour, and he was running as fast as he could towards Logan and safety. The plan had been to check out the equipment in the hut and move out at dawn to rendezvous with Cooke. A helicopter was lurking just over the border in Poland to pick up the team once Cooke was in hand.

As Logan told the mongrels about the probable early start to the pickup, I called up air coverage to see if there was anything about the helicopter. When I found nothing, I relayed that to Daniel.

 _Checking,_ he sent back _. Beast and Nightcrawler are hunkered down in a valley close by. Alexei’s with them._

I hoped no one saw my eyes widen in surprise. _Alexei’s with them?_

_That’s what I said, lass. He said he wasnae about to assassinate anyone, but he wasnae above helping with an extraction here and there, either._

I smothered a smile because Logan was through with his introductions.

“What about her?” Tiger pointed his chin at me with all the venom of an adder in his voice.

“What about me?” I asked softly.

Tiger didn’t look at me. “What’s she here for?”

“Wolverine told you,” I said. “I deliver the intel.”

Tiger kept his glare on Logan. “I’m not splitting my share of this with her –”

“You’ll do your job before you collect a cent, bub,” Logan snapped. “You keep your head on that instead of countin’ who gets what.”

“You’ll get your full cut,” I said, finally drawing Tiger’s eyes. “Mine’s taken care of elsewhere.”

Logan’s glare was intimidating, but I was more interested in the sudden flare of emotion in Tiger’s eyes. His uncertainty and aggression washed over me like an unsettled breeze.

“Nobody gets a thing ‘til this is over. Got it?” Logan snarled.

“Got it,” everyone but Taurus muttered.

“Good. Cobra’s got a data drop for me. Won’t be fun swallowing it.”

“Stinks like a double cross,” Tiger muttered, eying me with the mistrust of the greedy man who thinks someone is about to steal from him. “She drops in here like a ninja and you’re gonna trust her? Why didn’t we know about her at the start of the mission?”

“You know what you need to know, when you need to know,” Logan snapped, eying me with a glare. “That’s the nature of this shit, in case you didn’t know. Deal with it.”

“She says the mission is changed,” Scorpion cut in, her dark eyes flashing sparks. “The bitch is right – she’s changed it. She wants to cram hell knows what into your head – for all we know she’ll download instructions for you to sabotage the mission yourself, and then what chance do we have?”

“Little girl wants you to take the red pill,” Hyena cackled suggestively.

“Given the mess this has turned out to be, I want all the intel I can get about what we’re walkin’ into,” Logan growled. “I’ve worked with Cobra before, and I trust her a hell of a lot more than I trust what we’re walkin’ into. So for the next fifteen minutes, your job is to make sure we stay off everyone’s radar. I want Tiger and Hyena on perimeter. Scorpion, you watch the comm. Taurus, you watch Cobra. Because Cobra’s gonna have the job of makin’ sure I live through whatever she gives me. If I don’t, then the rest of you make sure she doesn’t survive me for long.”

Logan popped his claws with as much testosterone as I’d ever seen, but his fury was for the troops, not me, so I thought about what I’d do if he did convulse. His claws might make that very entertaining for everyone but me.

Tiger and Hyena melted into the gloom, taking themselves outside to guard the building. Scorpion had the portable comm unit in hand and glared at me possessively. Her swollen lip and jaw didn’t make her expression any more appealing, and the hatred radiating from her was getting tiresome. Again, I let it slide away as annoying background noise.

Taurus looked blankly at Logan, not moving until Logan beckoned him forward. Scorpion snorted in open disgust, waiting until Taurus’ back was turned to mutter a string of epithets under her breath, all of them calling Taurus as dumb as the ox he resembled.

“Is it smart calling someone that big that many names?” I said quietly.

She swiveled her furious gaze on me. “Back off, bitch. He’s deaf as well as stupid, so he won’t be coming after me, even if he understood half of what I said, which he doesn’t. You mess with me, I’ll hit you so many times you’ll be even dumber than he is.”

“You want to bring it on, you do it after the mission is over,” I murmured back. “In the mean time, you and I are going to do what Wolverine says.”

I got a mouthful of curses back. I shook my head in resignation and got up to help Logan and Taurus search through the boxes.

We came up with armloads of towing chains. They were substantial, but if they thought they’d deter Logan if he berserked, they were wrong. Still, Taurus duly twined several of them around Logan’s torso and arms. A final one went as a slip noose around Logan’s neck and attached to the transport car’s axle.

“Do it,” Logan growled, nodding at the data drop still in my hand.

I dug into my backpack for a bandanna. I approached slowly as I twisted it into a gag, then bent down beside him.

“So you don’t bite your tongue,” I said quietly in English, so Taurus and Scorpion heard me. He nodded, and maybe his expression softened a hair. Was he remembering me?

“Some of what you’ll learn is hard,” I whispered in Japanese as I fiddled with the bandanna. “Try to remember that the important part right now is to protect yourself from the wolf’s child.”

“Just do it.”

I tied the bandanna. Then I put the data drop in Logan’s left ear, keyed it, and stepped back.

Logan’s eyes fluttered, then closed. He looked as if he were concentrating. For two minutes, nothing happened. Then his breathing deepened, and his muscles alternately tightened and relaxed, as if he were trying to keep himself calm. He managed that for another two minutes. I kept a surreptitious eye on my watch, but before five minutes had passed he twitched uncontrollably. I risked stooping beside him.

“Don’t fight it, Logan-kyoshi,” I urged him in Japanese. “Keep breathing. Concentrate on that.”

Taurus glowered, but did nothing else as Logan quieted.

Another minute crawled by as Logan tried to accept the surge of data. Seven minutes into the rush, however, it grew out of control, tearing a moan from Logan. His head went back, his spine arched, and his muscles bulged.

I looked at Taurus. “Please, help me,” I asked him. “Help me hold him down.”

I got little but incomprehension from him, either by sight or by emotion. He didn’t understand but the vaguest intent of my words. Maybe Scorpion was right about his mental abilities. He didn’t understand Japanese – but he was from Algiers – maybe he understood French –

“Je vous prie – m’aidez. Je vous prie!”

Startled recognition flared in Taurus’ brown eyes. I let go of Logan long enough to wave at him vigorously, and he came slowly.

“Merci, merci,” I repeated several times, and Taurus leaned his considerable force on Logan’s torso, holding him a few more precious seconds.

A howl finally tore itself out of Logan’s throat, and Taurus and I went flying as Logan’s body thrashed. The choke chain helped, but I was afraid that he’d burst the lot of them. But to my surprise, he started upward, then fell back immobile.

“He’s not breathing,” I muttered. “Il ne respire pas. Je dois l'aider…”

Before Taurus could think to throttle me, I was in my backpack for the emergency adrenaline hypo. I pulled it out –

“What’re you doing?” Scorpion snapped, coming up behind Taurus. “Damn straight, bitch, you’re not gonna touch him with that –”

I yanked Logan’s shirt open and slammed the adrenaline hypo home into his chest through his tee shirt, praying I’d gotten it between his metal-coated ribs and into his heart. My aim was good enough that the needle slammed home, but Scorpion was over Taurus and on top of me a split second after. With my time-sensing talents, I’d seen her coming, but I hadn’t prepared for the blow because I was focused on getting the needle home. Scorpion flattened me against the concrete, pinning me underneath her and pummeling me for all she was worth. She landed a couple of hard, dizzying blows before I caught her wrist in my hand and twisted it without mercy. She weighed more than I did, but I levered her off me. I scrambled to my feet at the same moment she did. When she drew a pistol, I kicked it out of her hand.

“I’m sorry I gave you a crack on the head,” I snapped, as the gun went skittering under the transport vehicle. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you walk all over me.”

She cursed and launched herself at me, giving me all I could do to keep my Weapon X training from making pulp out of her. I finally caught her with a vicious kick to the solar plexus, and she collapsed, gasping. Before I thought, I had her arm wrenched up behind her, and Alexei’s knife across her throat.

“Do it, bitch, just do it!” Scorpion screamed defiantly at me. “C’mon, are you afraid?”

If she’d known what a struggle it was for me not to let her have her way, she wouldn’t have been so cocky. I stifled everything that Weapon X had wanted me to do and instead looked at Taurus.

“Taurus, est-il mort?”

He looked up at me. He shook his head.

“Il vive?”

He nodded.

I got myself away from Scorpion and went to Logan’s side. He breathed again, if in a pant, and I had time to pull out the needle before he started convulsing. So far, the chains had held him, but only because his energy was unfocused. “Reste en ligne,” I asked Taurus, and tried to brace myself as best I could against Logan’s convulsions. “Scorpion, grab his arm!”

She swore worse than any sailor I’d ever met, and she hated me more than anything else right now, but she came. The three of us held on until Logan’s struggles finally got beyond us. He threw us off like insects, even Taurus, and even garbled through my bandanna his howls were fierce. The chains around his arms started to burst –

We scattered. Logan made pieces of the chain, until the only one holding him was the choke chain. He threw himself against it once, twice, hard enough to bring the transport lurching after him by nearly a meter. I didn’t have any more tricks –

Logan stumbled to his knees and fell onto his side.

I scrambled to him, not caring about the danger. Now I had a good reason to touch his skin, not just looking for his vitals, but to get a solid fix on his emotions. His heart rate was horrifically fast, and his body trembled. His emotions were a crazed stew of fear, anger, panic, and confusion.

I put my hands flat on the bare skin of his shoulders, projecting calm for all I was worth, my equivalent of a killing burst. But it didn’t kill. It cut through Logan’s maelstrom of emotions, making them focus on what I insisted on. His body quieted, but it still trembled like a frightened animal.

“Logan-san, you’re through the worst,” I urged in Japanese, pressing calm at him with all my strength. “Rest. You know how. Find that place inside where the warrior waits. Find it.”

Logan’s body stilled. His emotions fell silent, waning to the low rumble I sometimes sensed from him just before he awoke. Maybe the worst was past.

Of course, that’s when Scorpion chose to jerk me to my feet and level that damned automatic pistol at my head again.


	9. Chapter 9

When Rachel activated the data drop, I didn’t know what to expect. Hallucinations? A droning voice? I got dreams. Movies. Scenes from a life that had been mine and taken away. All triggered by a stream of dry facts and figures that poured into my brain as easily as they’d been drained out so many times. As the facts and figures returned to me, they triggered the scenes that I’d lived but no longer remembered. Rachel had told me once that my emotions felt like a hallway full of doors, only some of which opened. The facts and the figures were the keys to open the doors, and everything came flooding back.

My parents. My father, dead, and his murderer my first kill. My mother, nothing but a white-clad wraith running through the forest, soon dead by her own hand. Rose – oh, God, I’d killed Rose! All the wars. So many wars. The uniforms morphed and the weapons grew crueler, but the scenes of destruction never changed.

After the wars, I tried to make peace with Silver Fox, only to have her ripped from me. I drowned in Weapon X’s tank, again and again. So much blood. So much pain. More wars. More missions. More deaths. The few bare moments of peace with women who had been stupid enough to love a beast –

A smell of exotic oils, cloying and overwhelming, blocked my senses to the presence of a man who even now I remembered only in fragments, a man who’d stood outside the tanks where my skeleton had received its adamantium cloak, a man who’d been in the stands of the arena in Rome, a man who had marked me as his so long ago I didn’t dare believe it. That man reached out for me now.

A voice cut through the turmoil, a woman’s voice. She was the one woman in my life who’d beaten the odds to stay alive despite everything that had been thrown at her.

“Find that place inside where the warrior waits.”

I didn’t know much, but I knew that. Too many times that’d been the only thing I’d had to keep the tiniest grasp on my humanity. It was nearly automatic that I turned my back on the mess of my recovered memories and groped for that one, small corner where I kept a piece of myself that no one else could touch.

When I found it, I found Rachel beside me.

She smiled, sad and welcoming at the same time, but she grounded me. I became the warrior beside her.

I woke up.

I was in some kind of warehouse. Chains lay in pieces around me. There was still one around my neck fastened so tightly that I had trouble breathing. My fingers were numb, but I loosened the chain, removed my gag, and took a deep breath. Something was rammed down my ear canal and it burned like molten steel. I pawed at it until the pain lessened. I’d been chained to a transport truck, and from the looks of it I’d done a good job of bouncing it around. An empty adrenaline hypo rolled away from my leg. I’d had a time of it, then.

“Logan-san?”

Rachel’s voice –

Memories shouted like a mob at the Colisseum – why did I know what that sounded like?

Rachel crouching with a knife in her hand, too far away from a woman with a gun –

That knife. I knew it –

“Logan-san?”

The urgency in Rachel’s voice – I shook my head as if that would clear the flood of memories –

The mission. Evan Cooke. Extraction of a friendly in unfriendly hands –

That Weapon X tank –

A vague memory of a young Russian assassin with that knife in his hand, stabbing for my throat –

The overpowering stench of rage, my own, someone else’s –

The smell of exotic oils –

“Logan-san –”

I got my eyes open. Scorpion was pointing an automatic pistol at Rachel’s head and was all but pulling the trigger. It was her rage that stank in my nostrils –

“Stand down, Scorpion!” I barked. “Stand down now!”

For a long moment, the woman didn’t listen. But she lowered the weapon with a curse. Rachel came to my side without hesitation.

“Do you know where you are?” she asked.

I shook my head to clear it. This was the first time that my head hurt badly enough that I understood what a migraine was. “Feels like a planet kicked me in the head. All the memories –”

“Tell Scorpion you’re okay so she doesn’t shoot me,” she murmured in Japanese. Her body was tightly wound. “Then give yourself a few minutes to let your head settle –”

I grabbed her wrist and held it so the stiletto was before Rachel’s eyes. “Where’d you get this?”

Here eyes widened, but quickly darted to the right and left. “A friend. Tell Scorpion to stand down, Logan-san. Please.”

I’d thought I could trust her. But if the man who gave her that knife was her friend –

Too many memories, too much noise –

I needed a base, a place to stand. I didn’t have the time or the brains to reason things out.

I had to trust Rachel.

I forced myself into a sitting position. “Rough ride,” I said loudly enough for Scorpion and Taurus to hear. “But I’m not gonna be the one berserkin’ tonight. Both of you stand down. Stand down!”

“Taurus speaks French,” Rachel murmured.

I looked at her sharply.

“He’s not stupid. Just deaf, and not a native English speaker.”

Damn. The woman had been here less than an hour, and she’d figured out something that I hadn’t. So I repeated myself in French, looking right at Taurus, and was rewarded to see his face clear for the first time since I’d met him. He nodded once at Rachel, realizing where my sudden interpretation had come from. So the man wasn’t stupid as Scorpion thought, just unable to lip read a foreign language as well as he did his own. That was more confusion that I didn’t need.

I sent Scorpion off to relay my amazing survival to the sentries outside, and told her to send all but Tiger in to set the duties for the next couple of hours. Then I had Taurus go over the transport to make sure it’d survived acting as my anchor.

Then I hustled Rachel to the side of the transport away from Taurus.

“Who gave you that stiletto?” I snarled in Japanese.

She slapped me with enough emotion to break my apprehension, enough that I realized my fingers were leaving bruises on her arm. I let go hastily.

“Alexei Valcheknikov,” she whispered. “An ex-assassin for the FSB. He told me that you pulled him out of Odessa and got him to the West some time ago.”

As she spoke, the maelstrom of memories parted a little, and Alexei’s face swam into view. He’d been hiding in a fetid cellar in a bombed-out slum, and he hadn’t slept for three days –

“I… remember…”

“Is he on our side?” Rachel shot back, her hands on my arms. Her scent flushed with apprehension.

I looked at her in confusion. “Why? It was eight years ago –”

“Because he knows I came after you. If he’s your enemy, we’re in bigger trouble than I thought.”

I shut my eyes, wading through the mess of memories that had closed around me again, looking for that tall, thin Russian who’d radiated so much cold death that I’d smelled it long before I’d seen him…

The cloying, black stench of mold and decay and death, trapped in the filthy cellars of burned-out concrete block buildings… the sharp scent of Alexei’s desperation and determination not to go back to the men who’d imprisoned him – his lunge as I edged into the back room of the cellar, knowing he was about to strike – I’d deflected that knife from its subtle arc diving for my throat, and caught his wrist before the knife could dive again… then his relief when he’d realized who’d come into the room.

We’d slunk together from that cellar, that ruined crater, that city of unblinking eyes, driven by the sting of nine-millimeter bullets at our heels all the way to a helicopter hovering outside of town…

“Logan!” Rachel hissed.

“Friendly. He’s a friendly,” I managed to whisper. “”Why do you know Alexei?”

“Because I needed someone to teach me how to do an extraction, and I don’t mean the one you think you’re working on,” she said tartly. “I mean the one where I extract you from this mess. I’ve got transport close by. Let’s get out of here, Logan. Now.”

I didn’t try to sort that out, not with all the other stuff in my head yelling for attention. I shut my eyes against the onslaught.

“Can’t bail now. Got someone waitin’ for me to get him outa here. Can’t leave him hangin’.”

“Are you sure this job’s legit?” Rachel demanded softly, shaking me.

I couldn’t sort it out. My body started to shake and my brain careened from one thought to another like a pinball. Rachel dug into her backpack for a packet of energy gel that she ripped open with her teeth and then thrust into my hand. As I gulped it down, she put her hands on my arms, and not just to steady me. Her eyes flared into their molten brightness and she flooded me with calm until I breathed easier.

“Your timin’ sucks, my head’s a mess, and I don’t have a clue whether what you crammed into me is on the level or not. And damn me if I understand why I need this now. What’s it got to do with Evan Cooke?”

“Maybe nothing. Or maybe this extraction is a ploy to get you in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of gun-packing loonies who want to extract you for you-know-who.”

Again, I gave Rachel’s suspicions full credence, but I wasn’t going to tell her so. I poked the Uzi slung across her back. “You’re packin’, too, kid, and you better not be afraid to use it, ‘cause the rest of ‘em are gunnin’ for you.”

“Then let’s bail. I have transport.”

“What kinda transport?”

“Big black bird, roosting very close. Beast, Nightcrawler, Iron Horse.”

I shook my head. “If Cooke’s legit, then he’s gonna die without our help. And if it’s the feint you think it is, then I’m gonna get close enough to find out, and then I’m gonna take down this bastard. So watch your back, ‘cause I don’t have time to.”

Her eyes waxed full of things I didn’t understand even as her lips revealed the suggestion of a smile. “I’ll watch your back as well as mine.”

Footsteps on the concrete revealed the approaching mongrels. Maybe one of them was an agent to someone I didn’t remember but who surely remembered me. That was where I needed to focus. But for the first time in decades I had a headful of memories all screaming for attention. It was the story of my life that I couldn’t wait to shove them all back into oblivion.


	10. Chapter 10

The thing you have to understand about Logan when he’s working is that he doesn’t spout reassurance any more than he admits hardship. He snarls and growls and tells you in often obscene terms just what a pain you are. So snarling about the mongrels being after me was just his way to tell me that he gave credence to what I said, and for me to be careful.

Of course, the mongrels _were_ after me. Logan’s emotions were a chaotic stew, and I had more than enough pissiness to fend off from Tiger and Scorpion. The emotional noise made for a disjointed contrast with the physical silence as Logan dispatched us to collect the gear and pack it in the transport. I kept an eye on him as I sorted through the food and hoped that no one else saw his occasional twitch, like an animal plagued by a gadfly. He must’ve had a killer headache, too, because he kept rubbing his temples. I kept my mouth shut and stayed out of everyone’s way, especially Hyena. His muttered imprecations echoed the Queen of Hearts’ bellowing about indiscriminant beheadings. She might’ve been amusing, but Hyena wasn’t. He had the means, the training, and the precarious mental state to make his imprecations real.

I waited until Scorpion headed outside for sentry duty before I looked for the data drop. It wasn’t still in Logan’s ear, but I didn’t find it near the truck, and I didn’t dare make too overt a search for it. When I didn’t turn up anything, I decided to take a look at the communication unit Scorpion had held so possessively. She left it on the box where I’d perched to talk to Logan, so I took up an armload of MREs and stacked them beside the radio as I scanned it.

“What’re you lookin’ at?”

I jumped at Logan’s growl. Thank goodness it was too low to attract anyone else. I kept arranging the stack of MREs.

“Frequency. To confirm that you’re hearing what they say you are.”

I heard Logan’s mollified whuff. “Smart. Don’t have a comm unit for you, though.”

“I don’t need one. Just the frequency you think you’re listening to.”

When he whispered it, I checked my telemetry. “That matches what I’ve got online.”

“Go crank up the transport. Team Osprey’s buggin’ out in an hour. Put those slop bags on the manifold so we can eat before we go.”

“I need the keys, sir.”

“Don’t be a smartass, Cobra,” he whuffed again. “Check on the visor.”

I took up the stack and headed for the transport. I found the keys easily enough, and it started without a hitch. Another advantage of my telemetry – I hadn’t thought to extend my education to truck parts, but I found enough information about the transport through my link that I knew how to open the hood and locate the manifold.

In that split second when I read about the manifold, I didn’t watch the time trails. Something clocked me at the back of the neck, laying me out in a dizzying cloud of grey. When my sight cleared, Tiger had both of my arms twisted behind my back, and Scorpion was pawing at my neck.

“No tags,” she hissed to her compatriot.

“Doesn’t matter,” Tiger muttered. “She’s that one out of Weapon X. Projective empath and time sensor. The one Wolverine busted out.”

I smacked them with enough terror to give them nosebleeds, but not enough to keep Scorpion from trying to levitate me off my feet. I smacked her again, this time hard enough that we both fell to the ground. I grabbed the time trails in time to realize that Tiger was about to light something up, maybe me, so I smacked him again, too. When I picked myself up off the ground, I felt Logan about to burst in, but I flicked caution at him, and he hung back behind the transport, listening.

“You aren’t very smart for knowing so much,” I hissed, rubbing my neck. “Or do you just not know what projective empath means?”

“It means next time I’ll hit you a lot harder,” Tiger hissed back as he fumbled to his feet.

“I suggest you stick to doing your job,” I retorted. “Or don’t you know what that is, either? Looks like I didn’t get here any too soon. You’re both more interested in your own agendas than anything else.”

“What does that mean?” Scorpion snarled, but weakly. She was still getting up from the floor.

“It means I don’t think you’re the least interested in Evan Cooke,” I said, looking pointedly at Tiger. “And if I know it after being here less than an hour, then others do, too. If you can’t do your job, I’m sure your employer will be grateful when I take up the slack.”

Logan came around the truck. “What’s the problem?”

“Nothing,” I said. Tiger glared back, but Scorpion looked confused more than anything else. “I dropped the MREs.”

“Yeah,” Logan whuffed, glaring at Scorpion. “Just like you’re supposed to be standin’ sentry, Scorpion.”

She waved a confused hand in concession as she got to her feet, but she shot Tiger an apprehensive, resentful look before she headed for the door. I tossed Tiger one of the MREs.

“Here. Light that up instead of me.”

He took the container with a snarl. For a minute, I thought he was going to light me up, anyway, but as I marshaled a projection, he cursed, backed away, and disappeared after Scorpion.

I bent down for the scattered MREs and put them on the transport’s manifold.

“Tiger knows I was in Weapon X and that you got me out,” I whispered.

Logan whuffed uneasily and rubbed his temples.

“How’s your head?” I said, passing him another gel pack.

“Real fine.” He downed the gel quickly. “Don’t like what Tiger knowin’ about you means.”

“I don’t, either. Maybe Tiger’s an agent, and Scorpion’s not.”

“Good read,” he said softly. “Didn’t look like she knew what you were talkin’ about.”

“ _I_ didn’t know what I was talking about,” I muttered back. “But Tiger did. Keep an eye out.”

Logan eyed me disparagingly. “Good advice, kid. Now get the damn’ food on the manifold before we die of old age.”

“You’d better curse at me instead of the food, or they might think you like me.”

“What makes you think I do? You _are_ a damn’ fool.”

A hint of a smile glimmered in his eyes, so I tossed an MRE to him. “Would you like to breathe on yours to get it hot, dragon tongue?”

He tossed it back, not gently. “That’s your job, grunt,” he said before stalking away.

So I’d done well enough for Logan to grant me the title of grunt. I smothered a smile as I put the last MRE on the warming engine. Only then did I suck the sore knuckle Logan had given me, and not with my full attention. Alexei had told me never to let my guard down, and I’d been lucky that Tiger’s reminder hadn’t been lethal. So I kept most of my attention on the time trails and what went on around me.

In a few minutes we had hot food to wolf down. I finished my stew quickly and nursed my imitation orangeade while I watched the others. I didn’t pick up anything damning, but I’d have bet that Tiger and Scorpion had had words, because neither of them would look at the other, and both of them were sullen. Tiger’s emotions were shifty and edgy, while Scorpion’s were tinged with desperation. I got only stolid attention to duty from Taurus, and nothing but a leer and more Wonderland mania from Hyena.

I wasn’t Alice, but I was surely in a weird place.

The only thing that saved me from a major faux pas was my time sensing, when I finally figured out where the privy was and got in before we moved out. No one had told me where it was. Or maybe they thought I was used to peeing behind a box.

Sometimes I missed being an antiques dealer.

I scrambled to rejoin the team beside the transport just as Logan began to talk. He made a big point of glaring at me.

“Nice of ya to join us, Cobra.”

“Telemetry coming in,” I replied.

“And?”

“Thirty-eight klicks southwest of here. Firefight off and on.”

Logan nodded. “Figured as much. Get the gear in the transport. Cobra, take the wheel and stay there, outa my way while this goes down, got it? Taurus and Scorpion, you ride shotgun. Hyena and Tiger, we’re in the back riggin’ the gear. Move out in five.”

It was clear that Scorpion didn’t like her assignment. I already knew how she felt about me, but apparently she didn’t like Taurus any better. She was going to argue with Logan, how Tiger was supposed to be up front to light whatever she lobbed from the truck, but he cut her off before she’d said six words.

“Change o’ plans, Scorpion,” he said, and left her to fume at the air. She cursed Taurus loudly enough for him to know he was the object of her fury, calling his ethnicity, religion, and mother into question. Taurus may not have understood the words, but the intent was clear enough. I caught his eyes to make a quick little gesture of putting my finger down my throat. I didn’t get a smile, or even any emotion from him, but his hands moved.

_Elle a la bouche d’egout._

_Vraiment,_ I replied. Then I got behind the wheel and waited for boss man to order me out.

In just a few minutes Logan was by my door, gesturing for me to lower the window. When I’d done so, he leaned in so Taurus and Scorpion would hear him.

“Does your telemetry show you roads?”

I nodded. “Not many to follow around here.”

“Follow what you can until we’re within a couple of klicks. I’ll tell you what to do then. Taurus, ouvrez votre oeils. Scorpion, if the fight comes to us, you follow the routine we practiced until the rest of us get ourselves set to back you up.”

Logan headed for the main doors of the Quonset hut without waiting to see if anyone had any questions. When he got the doors open, he stood for a second or two, looking for whatever his senses could pick up. When he gestured to me, I drove forward and waited until he’d locked the doors behind us. After he climbed into the back of the truck, he pounded on the bulwark behind my seat to tell me to head out.

I drove in silence for a while, which suited me fine. My night vision goggles worked well only if I didn’t let my talents fire, because the light gathering lenses in the glasses picked up the glow from my eyes and blinded me. Fortunately, the moon was rising, and while the sky was partially overcast, the moon was full enough that driving without lights or the goggles wasn’t a problem. On top of it, Taurus’ eyes were better than Logan’s when it came to seeing in the dark, so he signed to me if I got too near anything.

I figured that the more time that went by, the more time Logan had to sort out the aftereffects of the data drop. I wished I’d been able to retrieve it.

After thirty minutes on dirt roads and another forty over no roads at all, I slowed as new telemetry came in. Daniel was running interference for me back in New York, keeping tight tabs on the situation, sending me updates every couple of minutes. But the fight was drawing near, and details were becoming chaotic. I slowed the transport.

“What’s goin’ on?” Logan’s guttural voice rasped from the back portal.

“The fight’s very close, very confused. The signal keeps getting interrupted. Do you have a map? Is there something big near here?”

“Just the damn’ Carpathian Mountains,” he growled. “They’re right in front of you.”

“Mountains don’t block satellite reception every two seconds, Wolverine. Look for something else.”

I turned to Taurus. “Voyez-vous quelques chose qui est trèsgrande chez ici? Ce n’est pas des montagnes.”

“Un bâtiment est devant nous,” he signed. “Et un certain genre d'onde radio fait un cycle maintenant… maintenant… maintenant…”

“Pouvez vous voir cela?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Taurus sees a radio emission that matches the interruption in the telemetry,” I said to Logan. “There’s a structure nearby.”

“Turn off the engine,” Logan ordered. “All of you, hold your breath. Taurus, avec moi.”

I quickly switched off the transport, and silence fell as Logan and Taurus climbed out. We all held still as Logan came around to the front of the truck, listening hard. I let my talents flare to their fullest, but quickly backed off as the tight intensity of the mongrels washed over me. When I pushed past that, in the distance I sensed strong emotions, mostly fear and desperation. I smelled adrenaline, but it was more likely from the mongrels.

“I hear ‘em,” he whuffed, turning back towards us. “Anyone else?”

“I’ve got their emotions. A fight for sure,” I said quietly.

“Deploy, all of you. Taurus, la pointe. Tiger and Scorpion, right flank – à droit. Hyena and Cobra, left flank – à gauche.”

I would’ve preferred staying close enough to Logan because he was still clearly distracted from taking the data drop. But when I followed Hyena, I kept a strong sense of Logan’s relative position to me.

Nothing happened for several minutes as I followed Hyena as silently as I could through the rolling terrain. It gave me time to sample all the time lines, figure out where everyone was, and sense the coming fight over the terrain. It was rocky, uneven footing, and shrubby enough that a katana was going to do no good. I kept my Uzi under my arm, but my wakizashi was ready to draw at my waist, and Alexei’s stiletto was in my boot.

I passed everything to Daniel. _Where are Beast, Nightcrawler, and Iron Horse?_

_A lot closer than you think. They’re on the ground and headed your way. They’re on the far side of your quarry._

_Show me._

I got a small map showing me and the mongrels, the approaching enemy, and three blips behind them.

I didn’t speak – the enemy was getting close enough to hear. Their proximity brought a confused swirl of emotions – a mixture of my friends, the mongrels, and the men in pursuit of Cooke –

The deafening sound of bullets overwhelmed the sound of skittering feet and scattered breathing. I flattened myself to the ground as at least one bullet zinged overhead. I wished I’d brought earplugs –

_Daniel, what in hell is going on? Who –_

_I dinna know, lass –_

_GIVE ME REAL TIME!_

Daniel didn’t argue, but switched the whole gamut of telemetry and chatter to me. I minimized it so that it didn’t obscure my entire vision, and tried to make sense of it as men swept past me. Chaos descended. I didn’t see Hyena, and the time lines were so confused that I just stayed still and hoped that no one tripped over me.

My luck held. When eight men swept past, I gathered myself and circled around the melee that had engaged the mongrels. Between the sounds and the smells and the emotions, I was able to project enough disruptive emotions at the newcomers that the mongrels soon dispatched them. But there was no sign of their quarry, either in person or on telemetry. I flitted to Logan’s side.

“That was Team 1,” I panted. “No sign of Cooke.”

Logan’s head was up as he sniffed the air, and for the first time since he’d taken the data drop, he looked sure of himself. “He’s not here. Second team’s on its way. But there are others out there, and I can’t get enough of a line on them to know which side they’re on, or if they have Cooke.”

I checked my telemetry to be sure before I spoke to Logan. “Beast, Nightcrawler, Iron Horse. They don’t have Cooke.”

“Where are they?”

“I’m trying to patch in to their comm link.”

“When you get it, relay the frequency and we’ll switch over. Don’t broadcast it – we’ll pass it verbally. Better chance of that stayin’ secure.”

“Roger.”

I got the frequency from telemetry and switched mine over. “Beast? It’s Omen, Cobra for the night. What’re you doing here?”

“Things started to look dicey. Thought you might want an early pickup.”

“I’m cutting Osprey team over to this frequency for security reasons. They are not to be trusted. Repeat, they are not to be trusted. Watch your mouths, guys. Over.”

Both Alexei and Kurt added their acknowledgements to Hank’s, so I switched back to the mongrel’s frequency.

“Osprey, to Wolverine. Repeat, to Wolverine.”

I was closest to Taurus, so I grabbed him and brought him with me. In less than a minute, we’d huddled to get the new frequency. I cut my telemetry over to Beast’s frequency, and nodded to Logan.

“Sound off, everybody,” he ordered.

I heard all of the mongrels, then Beast, Nightcrawler, and Iron Horse, followed by Logan’s terse announcement about the three new team members.

“We’ve got visitors,” I broke in. “Second enemy team’s on its way.”

“Telemetry?” Logan asked at once.

“Emotions. Half a klick.”

“Any sign of the pickup?”

“Not that I can sense.”

“Fan out, everyone,” Logan ordered. “I’ll hunt for the pickup. Let the rest come to you. Take out the ones who do.”

Murmured acknowledgements came around as Logan faded from my side. The rest of us did as Logan ordered. I angled to the far left because I sensed Nightcrawler near. I whispered to him that I was coming up on his right, but he bampfed beside me before I had the sentence out, which did very little good for my nerves. Not for the first time, I wondered why on earth I’d put myself in the middle of such a mess.

“Sorry, Lieb – Cobra,” Kurt whispered to me when he grabbed my spasming body to keep me from falling. Behind him, Alexei ghosted into view, followed by Hank. Kurt made sure I saw him turn off his comm link, as did Alexei and Hank. I followed suit.

“We’ve been listening to the chatter so we know what’s going on,” Hank whispered quickly. “That was the first pursuit team we engaged, correct?”

“Yes,” I confirmed. “But I’ve had no sense of the pickup. Do you have anything?”

They all shook their heads.

“If anyone finds him, it will be your friend,” Alexei said softly. “He looks now, yes?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Then we should do as he said – let second team come to us,” Alexei said.

He would have glided away, but before he did, I touched his arm and handed him his stiletto. “Thanks for backing me up.”

He pushed it back to me. “Finish this first.”

He followed Hank and Kurt. I turned my internal comm unit back to broadcast.

It seemed like hours, but after only a few minutes, I picked up stronger emotions from the second team. Soon enough, I heard the stealthy crunch of boots against forest detritus. I made sure all my gear was secure, hunkered down, and waited.

One man crept very near to me. I focused a very tight beam of terror at him and dropped him in his tracks. A brief scuffle to my right was Taurus; he dispatched a second with a quick twist of the neck.

Another scuffle came to my right, followed by the deafening crack of a pistol and a strangled scream. More sounds closed in. Voices chattered over the comm, a confused babble in at least three languages. Through it all, Logan’s voice cut in.

“Pickup in sight. I need backup. ‘Bout a dozen comin’ down my throat –”

Several voices answered, but mine wasn’t one of them as I headed towards Logan with all possible speed. If something were to go down, the confusion of a night fight would be the perfect cover –

“Pickup made, gettin’ hot,” Logan’s guttural voice called. “On the run –”

I checked telemetry to find Logan’s heading. When I put on my night vision goggles, blips streamed towards the structure Taurus had noted. One of the blips flitted wildly from one blip to another, blips that faded soon after the first one engaged them. That was probably Hyena, because I heard his eerie laugh over the sounds of the fight. I took off after Logan, projecting for all I was worth whenever I got close to someone. How ironic that the talent that Weapon X had conjured in me to kill was what I used now to clear my path without killing anyone. They’d survive with nothing but a twenty-minute gap in their consciousness and a headache.

I skittered on, trying to avoid everyone and everything. The hardest thing was all the data I had to sort through – telemetry, scents, emotions, sounds – too much. But finally I caught a clear direction of Logan’s emotions. Close to a dozen enemies lay between him and the rest of his team. I plowed ahead, projecting emotions to clear my path and drop enemy fighters. Funny – I didn’t catch any inkling of Tiger, Scorpion, or Taurus, though I found Hyena –

An eerie scream went up like a shot, only to be choked off in a gurgle. Hyena. Someone had stopped the berserker. I listened over the comm to voices pro and con noting the fallen. He wasn’t the only one, but he was the only one of the mongrels to fall.

Nightcrawler bampfed into the wrong place and caught a vicious knife to the thigh.

“Get of here, Nightcrawler,” I whispered over the comm. “Get back to safety. I’ve got this!”

I got protests, but I didn’t listen. Logan had headed towards the building, and had crouched beside a man holding a bloody arm. That must be Evan Cooke. I dodged through the trees to find Taurus just ahead of me –

Time trails crashing over themselves, blinding –

A blistering hail of bullets spraying where I would be in two seconds –

“Taurus, arretez-vous!” I screamed, nearly tripping over myself as I tried to stop. “Arretez-vous –!”

I barely avoided the bullets. Taurus wasn’t so lucky. So many hit him that even his incredible strength could not resist. I threw out a nasty projection, silencing the shooters.

No time to mourn those beautiful eyes –

Logan dragged Cooke into the building, retreating from a furious spray of bullets. I focused my talents hard, and finally found Tiger and Scorpion sprinting for Logan. There was a weird aura around Tiger, maybe his fire-starting abilities. I shot out projections, but they were so unfocused that all I caused was a moment of confusion. I took advantage of that, sprinting towards Logan, hard on the heels of the two mongrels as they pounded into the building after Logan and Cooke.

Scorpion drew a knife. I wasn’t close enough to keep her from stabbing Logan under his ribs.

“I want in, too!” she panted to Tiger as she kicked Logan to his knees. “You owe me for doing all the dirty work for the past two years!”

“Thanks for doing the dirty work,” Tiger said as he shoved Cooke behind him. “As for owing you anything, there ain’t room for three on this job.”

Tiger lit Scorpion up like a torch. The force of the blast knocked me down, and I fell against the wall just inside the door. As Scorpion fell to the rocky floor, Tiger and Cooke joined forces to shove Logan to the left through a gaping doorway. I scrambled to my feet, dodged Scorpion’s burning remains, and piled in behind Tiger and Cooke just as the doorway closed behind us.

I tumbled down a steep, rough-hewn, slope through solid rock, around and around, down and down. Falling down the rabbit hole shouldn’t have hurt so much.

By the time we reached the bottom, I was bruised, battered, and dizzy. I wasn’t clear-headed enough to stop Cooke and Tiger from stabbing Logan over and over again, each blow driving a gust of air from Logan’s lungs. He was on his hands and knees, gasping, bleeding from a dozen wounds. Cooke swiftly handcuffed Logan’s wrists behind him, then jerked his bound wrists up behind him so that the chain trailing from the handcuffs could reach around Logan’s neck. It was a painful array that effectively strangled Logan unless he kept his arms twisted tightly behind him.

“That oughta hold the bastard.” Tiger looked at me with feral intent. “Now it’s your turn.”

“It’s yours actually,” Cooke murmured in a clipped British accent, as he came behind Tiger and stabbed him, jerking his knife hard before pulling it out. Tiger didn’t have breath to scream or gasp. Only his eyes reacted, gaping wide with shock. “There’s room for two, but you’re not one of them, I’m afraid. Explain it to Scorpion when you see her, won’t you, chap?”

Before the life faded from Tiger’s eyes and his body crumpled, I’d projected enough terror to bring Cooke to his knees. I scrambled upright to kick the knife from his hands, then kicked him onto his back and balled him into enough agony around his crotch that I could strip him of his weapons. Then I kicked him to the side of the room and went to Logan.

Logan choked and gasped, but his healing factor was closing his wounds quickly. I put a hand on his arm and tried to project caution to him. He didn’t look at me, but lay wheezing on his side.

“Guess I snuffed the wrong one,” Cooke gasped weakly. He couldn’t breathe well, so I hoped I’d broken a few ribs in addition to crushing his testicles. “Though I would’ve expected a professional to finish the job.”

“Small fish have other uses,” I said shortly.

“Oh, that hurt,” Cooke said ruefully.

“Shut up,” I told him. “Or I’ll stifle you the same way I have him.” I shoved Logan not too gently onto his stomach with my boot.

“Oho, a competitor,” Cooke laughed wheezily. “And just how do you –”

I thwacked him with a quick, overwhelming slap of terror.

“Augh! – ouch… ah. Projective telepath.”

I didn’t correct Cooke’s misdiagnosis. It might be an advantage at some point.

“Cool little thing, aren’t you? Are you good enough to hold him under your spell?”

I had no intention of showing him just how much harder I could project. “Is something wrong with your eyesight?”

“You’ve got a smart mouth, too. Why are you keeping me alive?”

Cooke inched around, maybe to reach a hidden weapon, so I had no compunction about giving him a vicious kick in the knee, drawing an agonized explosion of pain from him. I followed that up with another kick on the ribs, enough that he wasn’t able to stop me from stripping a tiny gun from him. I pocketed it, then bent over Logan while Cooke writhed. I could just get the point of Alexei’s stiletto into the lock of the cuffs. I sprung it quietly, but sent Logan a silent plea to do nothing yet with a flick of caution. He coughed and wheezed, but managed to keep his hands painfully twisted behind him.

“All right, you’re healed enough to walk,” I said to Logan, backing away from him. “On your feet.”

Somehow he managed. He wasn’t completely healed, because his breathing rasped in and out like a file grinding on stone. He spat out a mouthful of blood and grimaced at the tight chain around his neck. When he was solidly on his feet, I put my hand on his neck and trained my Uzi on Cooke.

“Your turn. Up.”

“What for?”

“Because the smart player uses a shield when she deals with Romulus. Lead the way.”

The assurance dribbled out of Cooke’s wry demeanor, and he struggled to his feet painfully. He stumbled towards the doorway opposite the one we crashed through, and ventured into the black corridor. I guided Logan after him, into the unknown.


	11. Chapter 11

I shuffled ahead of Rachel, nearly blind and deaf from the raging memories that clamored in my head. My body was a mess, trying to heal punctured lungs and a perforated liver. I couldn’t place where I was – there were too many identical scenarios floating in my thoughts, parading before me as if I were on some lethal fun house ride. My sight greyed more than once, maybe because of the chain that choked me, or maybe because of the stab wounds. Rachel’s hand on my neck fed me patience to counter the stench of her anger and wariness.

I was so fucking confused. This woman had kicked me onto my stomach, then she’d sprung the cuffs binding me. Now, she flooded me with this roiling stew of scents and emotions. Was she my ally or my enemy? My head was nothing but a war zone in full chaos.

So much of my life was spent in the midst of war...

Then I understood that in this war, the woman behind me was fighting with all she had. I was flooded with her anger – but it wasn’t directed at me. Concern and affection for me lay underneath that anger. I didn’t know what scene I was in, but she told me to wait, to trust her.

I had nothing else to trust.


	12. Chapter 12

I still had my night vision goggles, so I put them on. The corridor was more rough-cut rock and headed further underground. That surprised me. I hadn’t imagined much about Romulus, but I hadn’t expected him to skulk underground like a troll. Instead, I’d expected him to prefer some noble aerie soaring above the plains of mere mortals. Still, my telemetry had dropped to zero, probably because of the amount of stone between me and clear satellite reception. Even when the path headed into the higher reaches of the mountain behind the anteroom, there was no telemetry. We passed a few side passages here and there, but for the most part Cooke led us straightly. That was a small blessing, because Logan stumbled and shambled, barely able to keep his feet. His emotions were a blur, and he didn’t seem to know where he was. If he fell, I wouldn’t have the strength to get him up again. I fed him as much peace as I could muster, not much given how tightly wound I was.

The dead zone was a blessing in another way, too. I could let my talents go full bore without the telemetry data overwhelming me. I sensed Logan’s chaotic emotions, his confusion as he wrestled with his flood of memories. Cooke was scared – he didn’t like being the lead rat in the maze. I didn’t sense any other emotions, maybe also because of all the rock. I stayed alert for them, but concentrated on the time trails. Things were going too quietly. But no one jumped out at us, no trap doors opened beneath us, and no dizzying illusions clouded our vision.

We approached the end of the tunnel. I squeezed Logan’s neck in warning and backed off a couple of steps to get my Uzi in hand. After all the jokes about me not using it, I was finally about to.


	13. Chapter 13

I paced after another man – he’d stabbed me? – with the woman – Rachel? – behind me. I smelled his fear, her coiled anticipation. Something was about to happen. The sheer intensity of Rachel’s scent told me that I had to clear the fog in my brain. I had to do it now.

Rachel touched my neck in warning. She lagged a step or two behind me. I heard her cock an automatic weapon – an Uzi, the weapon she’d used only as a bludgeon so far. I flinched, thinking that she was about to use it on me – no, no, that was Mexico, forty years ago, Canucklehead! Focus on now!

I stifled the urge to lash out at Rachel. Just a few meters ahead, the tunnel opened into a wide room. As I followed Cooke, I waded through the mess in my head, ferreted out scents, groped for sense of life force.

The strong smell of exotic oils and a brief sense of an old, old life force –

I freed myself with a single jerk of my arms and kicked out at Cooke, dropping him to the rough-chiseled floor –

Rachel’s Uzi spat bullets at the center of that smell, that sense. She pounded a trail of bullets across the chest of a tall man sporting a long Mongol ponytail, all white but for the black locks by his temples. Amazingly, he wasn’t dead. More amazingly, his massive hands sported claws longer than mine, and his body would have put Sabretooth and me both to shame. That snapped more of my whirling thoughts into place. He was some kind of kin to me, if not in a direct line then close to it – or maybe the start of it. His air of incredible age only enhanced how lethal a predator he was. A mutant who’d lived as long as Romulus surely had some version of my healing factor. He didn’t get up fast, though. Rachel must’ve used carbonadium bullets. They left wounds that weren’t easy to heal. Someone had once used them on me to take my memories.

Before Romulus recovered, Rachel lunged with wakizashi in hand past those deadly claws. The finely honed steel made a swift path through Romulus’ neck, and Rachel jerked the head from the body without regret or anger.

“My congratulations, Rachel Osaka. Excellently done.”

I whirled to see a twin to the dead man emerge from the shadows. He gestured once, and Cooke was picked up by an invisible hand and hurled head first into the stone wall. He fell with a strangled cry and didn’t move again. That didn’t deter Rachel. She projected terror at this new assailant, brought her Uzi up, and fired again. This one fell just as fast as the first one, and she headed for him with her wakizashi just as quickly as she had before, but the room crowded with men before I’d taken a step. I laid about with my claws and Rachel plied her blades and her projections, but in the end, there were too many. Romulus (if he were the real one) staggered to his feet with an effort that didn’t hide how badly Rachel had hurt him. He regarded his headless twin with rueful amusement.

“Again, excellently done. You’re not one to waste time with words. I cannot thank Mr. Cooke for his part in delivering you to me, of course. But perhaps the Wolverine would like to accept my thanks. Or Mr. Valcheknikov.”

A tall, lithe Russian stepped out of the shadows.

Rachel’s eyes glowed hot silver, but their light didn’t hide the betrayal on her face. “You tried to tell me, didn’t you? The conflict inside you every time we met, telling me that I shouldn’t drop my guard –”

“It was not personal,” Alexei interrupted her brusquely. “It was for my brother.”

“You said he was dead.” Rachel’s voice was as lethal as the edge of her katana.

“Apparently not.” Alexei slid a sideways glance towards Romulus. “I have given you what you want. I want my brother.”

Romulus held up a key, which Alexei took swiftly. “You and you,” Romulus looked at two of the men in the room. “Take him to what he wants.”

As the two men headed to the door behind Romulus, Alexei bowed to Rachel. “I am sorry.”

“You know he’s dead, Alexei. Even without me seeing it, you know Valery’s dead. Years ago.” Her voice was steady, but the betrayal in it was horrible. The air shuddered with anguish she couldn’t control.

Alexei had the grace to wince at the emotion. “I cannot take such risk,” he said simply. Then he turned and was gone.

“Touching,” Romulus sighed into the shocked silence that followed Alexei’s exit. “I find such innocence refreshing. I hope you are able to retain it for some time, Rachel.”

My anger flared, but Rachel reacted with scorn, even though she hung in the hands of two big thugs. “I always hated how the villain wasted his chance in the movies to kill the heroine because he couldn’t resist making a speech. But by all means, don’t let me stop you. I’m sure I’ll think of a way to shut you up while you pontificate.”

Romulus laughed outright at her challenge. “And fierce, too, even in the face of betrayal. A worthy adversary. Perhaps I’ve made a mistake all these lifetimes to focus on the male of the species.”

“We are the deadlier of the sexes,” she snapped.

“Much more focused, too,” he nodded. “You’ve done well. A worthy partner to my dark champion.”

“He’s not your ‘dark champion’.”

“Oh, he’s your lover? Your true love?” Romulus gibed. “How trite, and just as selfish as I’m sure you’re about to accuse me of being.”

“I haven’t hounded him to kill thousands of people for no reason past your amusement. I make no apologies for helping him to pursue another path.”

Romulus had recovered enough to gesture mockingly at me. “I did not make a mistake to reject a female champion, then. They’re so easily swayed by that most primal of drives. You’ve blinded yourself to the true nature of a man just because he fucks well.”

Rachel’s eyes narrowed and she sent a projection at Romulus that staggered him to his knees. A second blast tore a groan from him.

“Trust a man not to think past his balls,” she jibed.

Of course, that got the expected reaction from the men who held her, and before I took another breath, Rachel was on her knees retching from a half dozen blows.

“You’re stronger than I realized,” Romulus admitted, panting. “Do you see that, Wolverine? Perhaps I have miscalculated all these centuries, driving you to the merely lethal. Perhaps I should have given you something to fight for, as I have clearly given this woman.”

A dozen men had me pinned, so physical action wasn’t an option. I had to distract Romulus from Rachel to give her time to recover. I searched my mishmash of memories for Romulus, finding mostly murky shadows, and half-remembered dreams.

“I remember you,” I said. “The Colisseum in Rome, the first time I killed Sabretooth.”

“We go back much farther than that, Logan. Do you remember?” Romulus said softly, looking on me as if he might a prize pit bull. Was that all I was to him?

Rachel’s eyes distracted me from my own anger. Their molten silver light tinged with red, something I hadn’t seen before, and her scent waxed with cold, controlled fury. Her control had gotten so good that I didn’t feel a whiff of the next projection she pounded at Romulus, but it staggered him enough that he had to turn away. An instant later, her next projection targeted all of the men against us, felling them as easily as an atomic shock wave. I got to my feet, but didn’t approach Rachel. I knew better than to give Romulus a single target.

“You waste your strength,” Romulus wheezed, holding up a hand. “I will merely fill the room again, and again, and again, until you haven’t the strength to overwhelm them.”

“You’ll take the bigger hit every time,” Rachel warned, pulling her katana from its sheath. “The rest are just a distraction.”

Romulus was still crouched on his knees, head hanging down, but he put out a hand and Rachel stiffened. As her body rose in the air, the katana flew from her hands across the chamber. Her hands clawed at her throat as if she couldn’t breathe. I dodged around her and sprang for him, popping my claws in mid leap. But I ended up hanging in air, too, my throat closing as if Romulus’ fingers tightened around it.

“You cease to be amusing, either as the so aptly named Cobra, or as the more hidden Omen. You have deprived me of one champion and revealed far too much to another, and you have come closer to harming me than anyone has in centuries. Those are things you should regret.”

Rachel’s eyes closed, at first because I thought she’d passed out. But she only focused herself to send out a projection so powerful that it broke the hold on both of us. I landed on my feet, but Rachel crumpled to the stony floor coughing. I took her entrance into this place as my cue and lunged for Romulus. I tackled him low to the ground and had three claws in him before he could protest. His head came off with the next blow, and I flung it aside to join its twin.

“The two of you are truly an amazing pair,” a voice intoned with dry amusement. “I see why Weapon X was so intent on training Omen to join you, Wolverine, even before I whispered in their ears.”

Before I figured out how badly Rachel was hurt, the ceiling of the chamber lit, revealing a niche five meters above our heads. Yet a third tall Mongol with an ancient Italian accent sat in a golden throne looking down at us with the same dry amusement that mirrored the hubris of his doubles. But something about this one, how he sheathed his claws and steepled his fingers, how the light gilded his high cheekbones, how he cocked his head and arched one eyebrow up and then lowered it again…

This was the real one.

A snippet of my shattered memories swam into view – me chained to a chair in Alberta, bleeding as a handful of technicians tried to force me to assassinate Rachel and failed yet again, a shadowy voice murmuring of Rachel’s developing skills and her potential for the program…

Another snippet, me on a medical gurney, hazing in and out of consciousness as a technician hooked electrodes to my body, that same ancient voice whispering that Rachel would help me sort through a shady adoption deal in Burkan, all I had to do was ask…

My anger flared. Just as fast, I snuffed it. In the past, the fastest way to get me to kill was to make me mad. Feed my beast and I’d bite the head off anything in reach – friend, foe, man, woman, child.

I had to break that cycle. I wasn’t the Horseman of Death, I wasn’t Rome’s prize gladiator, I wasn’t locked in an eternal struggle between two champions, one blond, one dark.

I looked up at the white-haired Romulus. He’d used Sabretooth as a stand-in for a long, long time. It was time to take the fight to the original warmonger, and give him the ending he deserved.

First, I needed a weapon. Rachel still had Alexei’s stiletto – the hilt of it stuck out of her boot. She wasn’t an expert with it at distance, but I was. I needed that blade.

Second, I needed Rachel out of the line of fire. She wouldn’t like that.

Third, I needed Romulus where I could get my claws on him.

Time to dissemble. I hoped I had it in me to tie all this stuff up in a nice package of red and black for the old man.

“You mighta asked,” I glowered up at Romulus. “If you keep people in the dark all the time about your intentions, you don’t always get what you want.”

“And what do I want, Wolverine?” Romulus looked down on me, smiling.

“Beats the shit outa me, bub. You didn’t let me in on your plans, did ya?”

“No, I didn’t. And it made no difference to you at any point. You went along because… how do you put it? You’re the best there is at what you do, and what you do isn’t very nice.”

I put my arms akimbo, looking up at him consideringly, shoving memories, rage, regard for Rachel so far down that I forgot all of them.

“I am the best. Question is, how much of that is mine, and how much is from you?”

He smiled indulgently, but arrogance lurked behind his expression, just as it had lurked behind Zeus’ smile for an upstart Titan with fire in his hands. “Call it a mix of both. You provided the right host for my seed. The right ship to sail by my course.”

“So what do you want to do with it? If you say it’s just to fight a few thousand more rounds with ol’ Sabretooth, I’ll be disappointed.”

“Will you?”

I shrugged. “If that’s all you can muster after this long, then you ain’t the man you think you are.”

“It’s taken this long, Wolverine, because you are the weak link.”

That brought me up short, hit me where it hurt. “What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s taken this long to get you this far. I’ll say this for Sabretooth – he is the weaker of the two when it comes to resourcefulness and calculation, and his appetite for mere personal gratification is a disappointment. But he is the stronger when it comes to embracing his destiny.”

That brought another projection from Rachel that was as oblivious to personal safety as it was full of lethal emotions. Romulus reeled in his chair, but quickly retaliated to drag Rachel up with his telekinesis, choking and shaking her violently, then hurling her across the room and against the wall like a rag doll. She might’ve been knocked out because her scent wandered from anger for a few seconds before she dragged herself over on her back. Romulus would kill her if I didn’t do something fast.

“You are so full of shit,” she managed to growl, even though she didn’t get up from the floor.

“Telling the truth isn’t shit, my dear,” Romulus said, forcing a smile. “Do you see how I’ve reduced her, Wolverine? There’s none of her honeyed words, her niceties, her civilization, is there? Just the gutter talk of those who have nothing of any import to say.”

“So what do you wanna say, bub?” I growled.

“Why do you think I brought Sabretooth into my confidence, but not you? Do you remember him watching you in the tank all those years ago? Do you remember me there, as well? You’re stubborn, Wolverine; too stubborn for your own good. Even this defiant young human has been more malleable than you. In the space of two years, she has become every bit as lethal as you. More so, because she learned how to kill Sabretooth and did so, something you failed to do for far more years. Today she further demonstrated that given the right incentives, she can and will put her lethal skills to use without hesitation, and for more than mere self defense. Look at her now – willing to die to keep her control over you.”

That was crap. One reason why I’d stuck with Rachel was because she’d never had any interest in controlling me. Her regard was a gift few had ever given me, and something I cherished. But Romulus thought only in terms of master and slave, tyrant and subjugated. I turned a glare rife with suspicion and anger on Rachel.

“She doesn’t control me,” I growled with as much macho bluster as I could summon.

“She has taken you in so much faster than I have. I have learned something quite valuable from her. She has dangled the illusion of her regard in front of you, and it has completely changed your behavior for two years. You trust her implicitly. You even think you are a better man because of her. A true samurai.”

Even my headful of racket couldn’t keep me from scoffing. Rachel’s regard might be freely given, and it might have granted me moments of calm in the past two years. But I’d destroyed two Weapon X facilities with as much hellfire as I’d ever generated, and I hadn’t stinted on a lot of private jobs, either. I thought about the junkyard dog I called myself, the times I’d found myself in scenes of blood and destruction, many of them where I’d rejoiced to add to the suffering of the world. I stoked them, embraced them, let them soak me in blood, and spat an angry denial at Romulus to egg him on. He took the bait without hesitation, and gave me a chapter and verse lesson that tried to turn the love of a woman – my woman – into an exercise in castration. When Romulus aimed his final barb, fury all but leaked out of my pores.

“So you see, Wolverine, she calls it Love. What she really seeks is to drive you from yourself. Like all women, she seeks to chain the beast, to subvert the man she claims to love from his true nature.”

Romulus wasn’t looking at me when he made that grand pronouncement. He was looking at Rachel. Something about his eyes…

Did he want her for himself? As a plaything, or as something more?

Did it matter?

My rage got a lot harder to swallow, until I figured out that what I couldn’t swallow I could channel. Subvocalizing, growling, I swung my gaze on Rachel who lay against the wall. I stooped beside her and grabbed the front of her jacket, hauling her body closer to mine, looking pointedly at her ankle. “Romulus is right. Killing is what I do. It’s what I was born to do, what I’ve been trained to do, and you can’t keep me from it. You understand me?”

Rachel looked into my eyes without fear. Her body was quiet, not coiling into any of the twenty lethal postures it was capable of. All that moved was her hand towards her boot. “I understand you.”

“What, you ain’t gonna deny it? You ain’t gonna beg me to stay your lap dog?”

“The samurai for House Osaka knows the right thing to do.”

I popped my left claws. “Samurai? Right now I'm that junkyard dog I told you about. Maybe I need to show you the fangs of the dog.”

She magicked Alexei’s stiletto into her hand.

I screened her from Romulus as I took the stiletto in my right hand. I pulled my left hand back, claws apparently ready to stab. Rachel hurled another projection at Romulus, agonizing enough that he groaned. I turned –

My body was taken from my control, a puppet to Romulus’ telekinesis that stabbed Rachel with the full rack of my claws. His telekinesis wasn’t controlled finely enough to keep me from angling my claws away as best I could, but I still left wounds deep enough that she shrieked. Romulus rammed our bodies together, holding us like meat as my claws drove deeper into Rachel’s body. Her cries of agony shrieked higher even as I tried to retract my claws and failed. My nostrils clogged with the scent of Rachel’s pain, her blood, and my own agony for what I’d done.

The light in her eyes flashed bright red. The shade of her projections rose in a wave around me, shocking my skin with frost even as they raced towards Romulus.

Even the backdraft from Rachel’s shot was devastating. I felt Romulus fall to his knees more than I saw it. But his hold on my body merely trembled. Rachel’s breath ran out and she wasn’t strong enough to endure the pain to breathe in. The pain in her eyes was all regret for leaving me, none for herself. Then she closed her eyes and only Romulus’ telekinesis held her body next to mine.


	14. Chapter 14

Logan was stronger than I was. He wouldn’t fall before Romulus did. Maybe I wouldn’t see it, but in most of the dimming time lines, he survived. He’d survive.

For the first time, my consciousness dimmed past grey to black.


	15. Chapter 15

Rachel’s body lay limply in my arms. Her blood welled around my claws like blood had from the wounds of a thousand others. When she didn’t breathe again, Romulus let our bodies go.

I wanted to howl, wanted to retreat into the berserker rage that would avenge Rachel’s death in all the blood I could find. But I didn’t slip the leash. In that second when Rachel stopped breathing, Romulus leaned far forward to better savor the cruelty of her death at my hands. He forgot what he’d named me, and when he did, I turned and threw Alexei’s stiletto in one swift, smooth motion.

With so much rage behind it, it flew faster than sight could follow. The slender blade caught him in his right shoulder with almost enough force to overbalance him, but at the last second, he pulled himself away from the edge –

A shadow appeared behind him. Alexei. If the devastation on his face told me that he hadn’t found his brother alive, the stench of fury and betrayal did. He was bleeding from at least one serious wound under his ribs, but before he collapsed he shoved Romulus off Mount Olympus and into the pit with me.

I was on him before he stopped bouncing. Good thing. I’d underestimated his physical abilities, thinking he’d called on Sabretooth as a stand-in. The man – if man he was – was a formidable fighter even with a knife in his shoulder. When I dodged his claws, he used the bodies around us as battering rams, wielding their weapons to hold me off. I couldn’t let my beast slip its leash to fight him, because that would take away any sentience I might claim. I fought for my life without rage to strengthen my blows.

I held nothing back except the beast. Slowly, slowly, my blows took effect. For all his technical skill in hand-to-hand fighting and his superior size, Romulus didn’t have my endurance, my strength, or the sight of my woman’s body to goad me. I wore him down until his healing factor seemed nonexistent. I’d have my revenge for Rachel’s death in another blow –

 _Too good to be true, bastard_. Romulus rose from amidst the bodies and the debris with Rachel’s Uzi, and aimed it with the speed of a rattlesnake.

I leaped right at him, claws slashing a wide swath. Maybe I wouldn’t remember a thing after the bullets hit, but I’d still have the best shot at separating Romulus from his head.

Two bullets punctured my chest and blew out the back, but those holes let out only blood. It was the single one to the head that let all my memories out as fast as Rachel had put them in.

Later, I remembered landing that last blow and hitting the ground. But I didn’t when it happened.


	16. Chapter 16

A dim, half-imagined image of Logan hanging in air as bullets slammed into his body, his claws already arcing down upon the faltering specter of a Mongol emperor, his emotions screaming the agony of his body and his grief for my death…


	17. Chapter 17

Grey, grey….

Breathing – no, panting. Why was I out of breath? I blinked, saw nothing out of my right eye. My left cheek hurt like I’d hit the ground pretty hard, but the pain was fading.

I don’t remember sitting up.

I wished I hadn’t. I sat in a stone room full of blood stench and nearly two dozen bodies. I seemed to be the only one alive, though for how long that’d remain true might be problematic. The reason I couldn’t see out of one eye was because blood had poured over my face. I’d taken a flesh wound to the temple, just a graze –

There was no wound. Just blood.

Where the hell was I?

Why did I think this was a typical happening in my life?

I got to my feet shakily. Everything seemed to work –

Three metal knives extended from my knuckles on each hand. They were coated from tip to hand with someone’s blood. Maybe a lot of people’s blood.

What the hell was I?

The knives disappeared when I spasmed. I’d flexed my forearms just so –

The knives reappeared, as clean as if I’d never wielded them.

Many of the bodies bore no wounds. Some of them did. The ones that did… a lot of them had triple knife wounds, so I must’ve killed them. Some others had only single strokes from a different kind of blade.

Three of them could’ve been triplets. Tall, heavily muscled men arrayed in the full barbaric splendor of the ancient Mongol hordes, all of them decapitated. I’d done two of them. The third had died from that single blade stroke.

A Russian stiletto lay next to one of the bodies. I pocketed it because it seemed familiar.

A woman lay crumpled against the wall. A katana lay near her. She was tiny, Japanese, with my signature marks on her torso. So she must’ve been my enemy.

But if she were my enemy, why did so many of the dead men bear wounds from her blade as well as mine? And what had happened to the ones without visible wounds?

It made no sense.

I didn’t hear a sound other than the dripping of blood within body cavities. I looked at myself. I was dressed like a commando – the woman was, too. I still didn’t understand who or what she was. I headed out of the room, up a steep incline, but soon found myself in a small anteroom with a sealed metal door between me and outside. Nothing I did budged it. So I retraced my steps down to the charnel house and tried the only other way out of the room.

It was a warren of passages and rooms, occasionally occupied by men who took one look at me and fled. Pretty soon, what little power there was to the dim corridor lights failed, and I was left to wander through the dark alone.

I didn’t find much. A few papers that I couldn’t read in the dark. A few rooms full of the aroma of exotic oils I should recognize but didn’t. I didn’t find anything I understood. Great. Batting a thousand – didn’t know who I was, where I was, why I was here, how I got here. Nada.

Bet this wasn’t the first time I’d been this empty.


	18. Chapter 18

I faded in and out, in and out, from nothing to chaos and back again. I was in someone’s arms, someone tall and slender who shouted in Russian as he staggered to carry me. I smelled damp morning dew, forest smells of fertile loam and the sour tang of rotting leaves – the bitter stench of blood –

Russian? Alexei carried me? Alexei had sold me to Romulus for a myth –

I struggled, but even the easiest blow sent waves of agony down my side. I connected well enough that Alexei dropped me –

Everything went black.

I smelled loam again. Now the person carrying me was big, blue, and furry. Sharp pain stabbed my side with every stride of whoever carried me. A stumble –

Back to black.

I don’t know how many times that happened. But eventually I found myself strapped to a board, my arm stuck with a needle –

Oh, God, Romulus had me – no, I was back in the hands of Weapon X –

“Rachel, don’t fight me!” a voice begged. I tried to open my eyes. I knew that voice. “Don’t move. You’re making the bleeding worse. The anesthetic will kick in a second –”

I tried to sit up, to speak. My body didn’t cooperate, and more hands came to hold me down.

I remembered. The fight with Romulus, the agony when Romulus’ telekinesis had forced Logan’s claws into my body, more agony when Logan had pulled his claws out. I’d regained consciousness for a few seconds, enough to see Logan and Romulus fighting like wolves amid the bodies.

“Logan?” I said silently. I tried again. “Logan?”

“I know, Rachel. He stabbed you. We looked for him, but he wasn’t in the room where we found you.” Hank McCoy’s face swam into view. “Alexei got you out of there and found me and Kurt. We’re on the Black Bird heading to New York as fast as we can go. You need more surgery than I can give you here.”

“Alexei betrayed me to that bastard!” I shouted. “He –”

“It’s not what you think, Rachel –”

“The hell it isn’t! Where’s Logan…” I tried to say. But the anesthetic found its way through my body, and I fell back into nothing.


	19. Chapter 19

After a couple of hours I found a way out. I’d been inside a mountain. It was almost dawn. I found several bodies strewn around the perimeter, but not a one of them had any ID or orders on them. I hunkered down in the brush and started going through my clothing. A dead military comm unit, a packet of energy gel, a mini medical kit –

In a tightly buttoned shirt pocket, was something wrapped in a crumpled sheet of paper. It glowed an eerie acid green in the early sunlight. It was a data drop attached to an earpiece, a nasty little thing designed to force megadoses of information into a human brain at an impossible speed, only occasionally without seizures or heart attack.

The paper had English words scrawled on it in my handwriting.

_Your name is Logan. Use the data drop. Trust Rachel Osaka._

The dead woman in the charnel room under the mountain had been Japanese. Was she Rachel Osaka? Why did I kill her?

I put in the data drop and keyed it on.


	20. Chapter 20

How much time had passed since I keyed the data drop? I had a headache the size of a continent, and if I thought nothing made sense before, it really didn’t now. I lay back in the brush and let the memories swirl until I remembered that James Howlett was my real name, and Wolverine was my name that scared any sane person. I sat up when I realized that the three tall, Mongols I’d seen under the mountain had all claimed to be the Romulus that the data drop had told me about, and that I’d killed two of them.

The Japanese woman had killed the other one.

I put my back to a tree and tried not to scream as the data sorted itself out and pulled the memories behind the data back into conscious thought. It took a while.

Rachel had been my lover.

She bore the mark of my claws, but I couldn’t find the memory of why. Had she betrayed me? Had I killed her?

I couldn’t have killed her. She was the only good piece of my life, and she wouldn’t have betrayed me – but those wounds –

A crushing weight and terrible pain tried to burst out of my chest. Massive myocardial infarction –heart attack. Did the data download cause it, or the realization that I’d killed the best part of my useless life?

My throat closed. I’d lived nothing but a hundred years of futility. I’d killed my lover Rachel as I had Mariko, but for no good reason. No good reason! I was well and truly damned to wander the earth forever because I’d killed all of the people who’d made the mistake to love me –

When I thought about Rachel’s limp and torn body, her eyes closed in the dimness, most of my memories of her lurched into place, then upset themselves again because of what I must’ve done. The pain in my chest grew to unspeakable anguish.

I howled and let the world go.


	21. Chapter 21

When the grey finally cleared, I lay silently for a moment. I was tied to a board. A drip line fed into my right arm. My right side hurt fiercely. I smelled isopropyl alcohol. I dimly saw metal over my head –

I was back in the Weapon X lab where I’d once been a lab rat.

I kept myself from spasming, from giving away that I was awake. I heard the thin, intermittent ping of a heart monitor. I couldn’t let it fluctuate much or someone would know I was awake.

Carefully, carefully, I flexed my limbs, finding the straps that bound me. One crossed my chest; another, my thighs. My arms were outside the straps. Stupid people. I’d have those off in no time. I slitted open my eyes, but saw no one. I slid my left hand along the strap across my chest, found the buckle, and eased it open. The one across my thighs took longer, but soon enough it was open, too. Once I loosened the tape that held the drip line in my right arm, I eased the needle out. I rolled carefully off the board –

The world tilted. I was in a plane? Where was I?

“Rachel! Mein Gott! Hank, help me! Rachel’s come off the board –”

That was Kurt. Kurt Wagner. Nightcrawler. One of the X-Men. The X-Men? Why was I on the X-Men’s jet? Where was Logan?

Hands started to pick me up. My side burned in agony, and I gasped.

Logan’s claws thrust in my side, and Romulus loomed far above Logan’s head, lips stretched wide in triumph –

“Where is Logan?” I gasped. “Where is he?”

Alexei’s face swam into view. He was strapped to the Black Bird’s one medical gurney – he was the one connected to the heart monitor, not me. I lunged at him, grabbing him by the shoulders to shake him. “You betrayed me, you bastard –”

“Yes, I did!” Alexei shouted. “I did, and I am sorry, because you were right, but I tried to make it right, Rachel. I threw Romulus down to Logan –”

I yanked myself closer. I had a fractured glimpse of bandages wrapped around his ribs. I tore at them without mercy and punched as hard as I could where the worst of the blood was, drawing a howl from him. Someone plucked at my jacket as effectively as a gnat. I shoved the touch off before I banged Alexei’s head against the medical gurney.

“You put Logan in his hands, you bastard, you sold me out, and now you say you’re sorry because you betrayed the person you betrayed me to? Where is Logan? Did you leave him there?”

A hornet stabbed me in the shoulder, and strength drained out of my body. Stronger arms than the gnat’s pulled me off Alexei and dumped me back on the floor.

“For God’s sake, Rachel, you’ll kill yourself!” someone growled. For a moment I thought Logan had impossibly magicked himself aboard the jet. But Hank’s hands pressed my shoulders back against the board, and Logan’s loss welled up past all my abilities to suppress it.

“I don’t care!” I howled. “I don’t –”

I was used to my sight dimming to grey.


	22. Chapter 22

When the gray cleared this time, I was belted onto the board past my ability to change that. I must’ve moaned, because a head floated into view. Matte black skin, yellow eyes, pointed ears –

“Liebchen. Please, zhis time be schtill. You have been vounded. Please do not hurt yourself or anyone else zhis time.”

“Logan,” I mumbled. “Where is he?”

“Ve did not find him, Rachel,” Kurt replied. “Alexei found you in a room full of dead men. He is badly hurt himself, and he did not see what happened to Logan. He tzought you vere dead mit them. He managed to get you out to us. Logan must’ve turned on you, because you have wounds from his claws. Bitte, bitte, Liebchen, you must hold still or zhe wounds will reopen.”

“Did you find three dead men who looked to be triplets?” I demanded.

“Did I… vhas?” Kurt asked in confusion, looking up at Alexei on the gurney. His shirt was gone, showing the bandages I’d torn back in place, albeit redder than before.

“I did,” Alexei offered. They looked like Attila. Barbarian Hun. All three were decapitated.”

“Good,” I shut my eyes. “Logan finished him. But Logan wasn’t there?”

Alexei shook his head miserably. “I am sorry, Rachel. For many things.”

“Did you leave him there?”

Alexei shook his head again. “I did not see what happened, Rachel. I was wounded –”

“I thought you said your skin would protect you.”

“It did not from thrust I did not expect.”

“It was a fire fight, Alexei! What didn’t you expect?”

Alexei swallowed convulsively. “I did not expect what was left of Valery to turn on me.”

His agony washed over me, shocking me past words –

Hank swam into view, snarling. “No more talking, no more fighting. You tore out half the stitches I put in, you’ve lost a lot of blood, and you may have suffered more internal damage that I can’t repair until we get home. Alexei is in worse shape. I can’t fly the jet and repeatedly stitch the two of you at the same time, never mind that Kurt’s wounded, too. So you will lie still and not move until we get back to New York. Is that understood?”

We were over the Atlantic Ocean, too far away for me to do anything for Logan. My throat closed. I nodded once and shut my eyes.

I heard Hank return to the front of the plane.

“I left Logan there,” I whispered to myself, an accusation.

“As you should have,” Kurt insisted, misinterpreting my vehemence. “He stabbed you!”

“It isn’t what you think!” I tried not to think about Logan lying badly wounded and alone in Romulus’s mountain fortress.

Kurt looked dubiously at me, then Alexei. “Vhas happened that Logan stabbed you like zhat?”

“I did not see what happened after I pushed Romulus down to Logan,” Alexei offered softly. “When I got myself down there, he wasn’t there. I didn’t look for him because I wanted to get you out.”

Hank was back. He held up a hypodermic. “The lot of you – you’ve got to stay quiet or those temporary stitches may give again. I’ll give all three of you enough sedative to –”

“No!” I protested. “No more drugs! No, Hank, no. Please.”

Maybe the panic in my eyes made Hank back off, because he lowered the needle reluctantly. “Only if you stay quiet, Rachel. I’m serious about those wounds. You have to keep still.”

“He didn’t try to kill me, Hank. Romulus is a telekinetic, and he –”

“I don’t care. I care about getting us back before anyone dies. The Professor can sort it out – if I can get you all home for him to sort out.”

Hank rarely raised his voice unless he was terribly pressed. I looked at Kurt and the bloody bandages on his leg, and I looked at the blood seeping through Alexei’s. I kept my angry words to myself, and nodded like a child to be good.

Hank accepted that and moved away. Alexei shut his eyes and sagged on the gurney, and Kurt eased himself down beside me. I didn’t want his pitying look, so I shut my eyes.

I did the only things left to me. First, I used my telemetry link to tell Daniel everything. He promised to call Hank and fill him in. He insisted on being at the institute when we arrived as well. I told him to coordinate that with Hank, as I didn’t expect my arrival to be overt, given my continuing persona non grata status with Scott and Professor Xavier. After that, I set myself to meditate, concentrating what little healing factor I had on my wounds. I had only an hour before I reached land.


	23. Chapter 23

Eventually I stopped wallowing in the crap that flooded my brain, and started figuring out what to do. I scoped the site again, even the charnel house. Rachel’s body was gone. I followed her scent outside, trailing it to where the X-Men’s Black Bird had been hidden, now long gone. It smelled like Rachel’s body had been taken aboard for the trip home. There wasn’t much point to scanning the countryside to confirm that. But I cobbled enough local clothing together to disguise my fatigues and made my surreptitious rounds to find the morgue. That night, I eased in, but I didn’t find her body or any from the charnel house. I didn’t spend long at it. The goal now was to get back to the States.

I started walking.


	24. Chapter 24

Of course it was foolish of me to think that I could heal myself enough to avoid a trip to Hank’s operating table. Hank was too good a doctor to let me get away with that. But he conceded that Daniel had passed on what I’d told him, and he wasn’t so angry with Logan.

My emotions, however, were not calm. If I just knew whether Logan were alive or not... My gut clenched.

Three men who’d claimed to be Romulus were dead, but that didn’t mean that any of them had been. Logan might be standing beside the real one right this moment, ready to do all the things that Romulus had goaded him to do. Or Romulus might’ve decided that Logan was too much trouble and could not be allowed to live.

I told myself to believe in the samurai that Logan had denounced.

Suffice it to say that by the time Hank snuck me into the medical lab under the Xavier mansion with Peter Rasputin carrying Alexei, and Daniel and Rogue carrying Kurt, my head was a mess. I clamped down on my emotions as we came inside so that I wouldn’t attract psychic attention from Jean or the Professor.

Of course, no sooner had we come into the lab but Ororo, Kitty, Jubilee, and Bobby snuck in behind us. Hank sent them to the Danger Room with Daniel so that if either Jean or the Professor noticed the unusually large group down on the X-Men levels they might think it was just another training exercise. He stabilized me, then set to work on Alexei’s deep stab wound. It wasn’t long before he returned to me. It was all I could do not to project my fear when he bent over me with a hypodermic.

I came out of the anesthetic faster than I expected. Apparently my attention to my healing factor hadn’t been wasted, as there was much less to repair than Hank expected. I felt better when Hank admitted how carefully Logan’s blows had been placed. Logan had missed all critical organs, in fact doing little other then stabbing me shallowly through the muscle wall. That’s why my side had hurt so badly – I had both entrance and exit wounds less than 10 centimeters apart. That lent credence to my hope that Logan hadn’t been corrupted to Romulus’ will.

As Hank bustled away to the lab next door to check on Alexei, I realized how small that hope was. I still didn’t know whether Logan lived or not.

Kurt limped slowly to my bedside. “I am sorry, Liebchen,” he murmured, taking my hand. “If I had not been hurt, I could have looked for Logan before we had to leave.”

“You did everything that you could, Kurt,” I tried to console him. “But I’m curious – how did you come to bring Alexei with you on the Black Bird?”

Kurt grimaced. “Daniel asked if we would bring him. Ve… didn’t know zhat he would do vhas he apparently did.”

“I never picked up his emotions on the plane.”

“Hank drugged him so that you would not. And no one but a ballet dancer could have folded himself up into such a small ball to fit in the equipment locker of zhe plane for so long,” Kurt revealed. He mustered a smile. “I am glad you are safe. And I am sure that Logan is even more resourceful zhan the rest of us, and he vill find his vay home.”

My smile faded, but I shored it up for Kurt’s sake, because he felt so guilty about getting hurt. What I couldn’t do was swallow the lump in my throat or the emotions in my brain. I projected, drawing a concerned look from Kurt. I swallowed it down quickly and pulled the time lines to me. Sure enough…

“I just gave it away,” I said.

“Zhe Professor?”

I shook my head. “Jean.”

Kurt reached for the intercom switch to the Danger Room. “Ororo, Jean’s on to us.”

“Coming,” her voice whispered back.

“I vill help you aus,” Kurt said.

I swallowed. “You’re hurt, Kurt – no. Besides, I said I’d see her. I will. If she’ll let me.”

“You’re sure?”

I shrugged. “There is no such thing as surety. Anywhere.”

With that, the door to the lab opened, and there stood Jean framed in the doorway.

“Hello, Jean,” I said softly.

She swallowed visibly, and her hands twined together. I sat up gingerly; Kurt helped by propping pillows behind me.

“You’re – you’re hurt,” Jean ventured.

“Logan was in trouble. I tried to help. I’ll be okay.”

Jean took a tentative few steps forward. Rushing footsteps clattered behind her, and she turned to see all of my friends behind her. Jean looked at them in confusion, then back at me.

“Where’s Logan?”

I closed my eyes only briefly. “I don’t know.”

Jean’s emotions seesawed back and forth in a dance that I knew very well. Before she decided on which one to flee into, I spoke.

“Jean, please don’t be angry at Logan. What happened wasn’t his fault. It was mine. I’m sorry I hurt you. I would never have done that willingly.”

The swirl of emotions from everyone got thick, so I imagined that the stream of thoughts must be no less tumultuous.

“Please, Jean, I’d like to talk with you, if everyone would give us space, and if that’s okay with you.”

Everyone retreated through the main door. Kurt didn’t want to, but when I sent him a pleading look, he got up reluctantly, patted my hand, and limped after the others.

“Well, that’s the first part,” I tried to smile. “It’s your call.”

Jean’s eyes flitted restlessly, but she came forward slowly. “What happened?”

“When?” I asked. “In Chicago, or just now?”

“Oh, I… meant just now. They told me what happened in Chicago.”

“I’ll tell you what happened then, too, if you want. I can show you my memories.”

“No – no. I… don’t trust my... I mean… my control… hasn’t been good.” Jean looked down at her hands.

“Please, sit down,” I asked, pointing to the foot of the medical cot.

“Thanks.”

“I’m sorry about getting past your shields,” I said quietly. “I didn’t know how to do what I did, and I didn’t do it very well. I didn’t even think about what I was doing. I just… didn’t want Scott to die.”

I shut my eyes. I’d done what I’d done in Romania because I didn’t want Logan to die, too. Was there ever a way to save the ones we cared about without causing such damage?

“You’re worried about Logan,” Jean said carefully.

I forced myself to calm, to project the smallest aura of that calm.

Jean’s eyes flitted right, then left again. “Are you… projecting now?”

I nodded. “Just a little. Just calm. I thought it might help both of us.”

Jean looked distinctly unnerved. When she went to get up, I held my hand out to her. “Wait, Jean. Wait. I stopped the projection. Please don’t be afraid. My talent is different from yours. I’m an empath, not a telepath. Your shields work against telepathic projections. They don’t insulate you from emotional projections any more than they do from temperature changes.”

I don’t know what Jean was going to say, because the doors to the lab slid back and Scott stormed in. He took one look at me and pointed towards the door.

“You. Get out of here. You can’t be here, not after what you did to Jean.”

“I’m sorry for what happened, Scott. I hadn’t planned on staying. I’ll be gone within the hour.”

“Where’s Logan hiding?” he snapped, looking around.

Scott’s anger roused my own, but I kept my tone civil. “He’s not here, Scott. But if he were, he wouldn’t hide from you or anyone else.”

“No, he’d be in my face for sure –”

I sent a small slap of admonishment at Scott, making him stutter to a stop. “I said I’m sorry for what happened, Scott. But I won’t listen to you mouth off about something you know nothing about. Now, please excuse me so that I can get dressed and leave as you requested.”

Jean got up so that I could ease off the cot slowly without pulling anything. I gathered up my fatigues, my boots, my bag, and my swords and piled them on the cot. She at least looked conflicted, casting me a concerned look as she went to Scott. She tried to take his arm to draw him away, but he waved it away in distraction, pointing at me and muttering angrily. I went behind a rack of medical equipment and eased my fatigue pants on under my hospital smock, then pulled off the smock and gingerly got my bloody tee shirt back on. Scott and Jean were still arguing, so he didn’t see the blood or the bandages. I got my jacket on and zipped, covering the worst of it, then slid my bare feet into my boots and stuffed my socks in a pocket.

“Scott,” I said turning back to him, “I understand how angry you are about Jean being hurt. I did what I did so you wouldn’t die. I wish I’d had more time to figure out a better way. Logan didn’t have anything to do with it –”

“He taught you!” Scott shouted. “You didn’t have any more control than he does –”

I slapped him harder this time. “Weapon X forced my projections into being, not Logan, in ways I hope you never experience firsthand. And when it comes to being in control, are you in control right now? Do you blame Logan because he had anything to do with my projections? Or because your envy can’t resist any excuse to dig at him?”

Scott stared.” Where did you get such an insane –”

“Because I’m an empath, Scott.” I cut him off harshly, pointing at my head. “Your emotions are flooding me, and they’re poisonous – especially your envy. That’s what made you transfer your anger from me to Logan. I can see why you’d envy him – how many times have you depended on him to bail you out with whatever it takes? How many times has the man you call an undisciplined loose cannon done so without regard to personal cost? He’s done so with more compassion than you’ve mustered, too, and he’s never tried to put a box around the people he cares about. That’s why I call him my samurai, because he is an honorable man willing to sacrifice everything for those close to him. It’s too bad that you can’t bring yourself to emulate him.”

Scott was in such shock that I got my bag over my good shoulder and my sheathed swords in my left hand before he could muster a word. I headed for the door, making sure not to limp or flinch or favor my right side. Thank God Hank’s local anesthetic was so potent, because I was able to keep my steps steady as I turned to regard Scott once more.

“Thank you both for helping to free me in Chicago. I am terribly sorry that I hurt you, Jean. If I can help you in any way, I am glad to do so. All I ask is that both of you do the right thing by Logan. If he’s still alive, don’t blame him for what I did. Ask the Professor to do the same thing.”

“To do what same thing, Rachel?”

I turned to see the Professor wheel towards me. “Ask Scott,” I said shortly. “I was just leaving.”

I headed for the elevator.

Once I got out of the mansion, I called a cab and limped down the long drive to the public road. I clamped down on my emotions enough not to broadcast and hoped I’d get outside the mansion gates before anyone came after me. But of course Daniel drove after me before I’d gotten halfway, and Hank came at a run not far behind him. I straightened out of my bent crouch and kept walking, albeit slowly.

“What on earth are you doing?” Hank panted. “Rachel? Rachel! Wait!”

I kept walking. “Scott threw me out. I’ve called a cab. I’ll wait for it outside the gates.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Hank snorted. “You’ve just had surgery –“

“And I thank you very much for the wonderful pain medication,” I said evenly. “I’m fine to get home.”

“This is madness,” Hank sputtered. “You’ve just had surgery, and I’m not going to let any patient of mine walk home afterwards!”

“You won’t have tae,” Daniel said stoutly. He took my bag and my swords, and gave me his arm to lean on. “I’m proud tae get Rachel home in bonny shape. I’ll make her tea when I get her home.”

“Rachel –“

“I’m sorry, Hank.” I closed my eyes. “The emotions. Scott was a pill. I rubbed his nose in it. I can’t go back to the mansion.”

Logan was gone. Maybe he was gone for good. All of the past twenty-four hours settled on my shoulders. I refused to broadcast a peep of it.

“Thanks for everything, Hank. Please tell Kurt that, too. I hope his leg heals well, and soon.”

“He’ll be good as new in a couple of days,” Hank said softly. “Call me if you need anything.”

I nodded. “I’m sorry I left a mess back there.”

“We’ll sort it out. And let us know when you hear from Logan.”

I swallowed another lump, but merely nodded. I let Daniel ease me into the front seat of his cruiser.

I didn’t say anything while Daniel drove us back to Sanctuary. He made me comfortable on my couch with tea and soup and bread.

“Starting to hurt now, lass?”

I nodded as I shifted gingerly. “I’ll be okay, Daniel. And thank you for everything, you conniving Scot. Especially running my telemetry. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Can I get you anything else?”

I shook my head. “I just wish I knew where Logan was, Daniel. If he’s all right.”

“You know I’ll sing out if my beasties find anything.”

“I know you will. It’s just – you saw the comm. I think Romulus shot him. If that was my Uzi…”

He had nothing to say, but he patted my hand gently until I fell asleep.


	25. Chapter 25

Time went by. Daniel stopped in a couple of times a day to make sure I recuperated well. Hank called every day. Rogue emailed me about the riot that had ensued after I’d left the mansion. Kitty Pryde had slid through the walls of the medical lab with Rogue and they’d overheard everything, which they’d promptly told everyone else, and Rogue had led the charge. Scott hadn’t come out of the confrontation with many allies. In his defense, he hadn’t known I’d been hurt, and if I’d told him he might not have been so preemptory. It was no joy to me that so many people were furious with him.

Rogue also said that Jean was calmer, more her old self. I wished her only healing and quiet.

I kept to myself. My wounds were healing well, and in four days I could barely trace the lines of Logan’s claws. In a few days more, my body was nearly as good as new, though a nagging fever kept me from flying to Romania as I wanted to.

I finally talked to Alexei. He spent two weeks at the institute healing. When he first came back to Sanctuary, I avoided him because I was so angry – anything I said to him would be spiteful. But as the days stretched and I had no word of Logan, I wanted to know what had brought him into Romulus’ camp. Maybe there was something there that would help me find Logan alive.

It was a thin hope, and it would be hard not to spit my bitterness in Alexei’s face.

We met in the Sanctuary teashop. Alexei offered to see me in private, but I’d grown too wary for that, and perhaps the more public place would help me keep a rein on my temper.

Alexei was there before me, sitting awkwardly at a small table off to one side, away from the general bustle of the room. I took my time getting coffee, and sat down without a greeting. Alexei’s emotions were tightly held, but the prevailing sense was guilt. I was human enough to feel glad about that.

“Did you do it because they told you they had Valery?”

Alexei nodded without rancor. “I am sure that it is no consolation to know that that is only thing that would have made me do so.”

“And what exactly did you do? Pass Daniel enough hints to push him in one direction or another?”

He shook his head. “All I was asked to do was to assess your skills. They are very good. So I reported.”

“They gave you Valery for that?”

He shook his head. “That was my price to guarantee that you would go to Romania. I knew you would go regardless of what anyone told you, so to guarantee something that you yourself had already guaranteed was no cost to me. But it would answer my questions about Valery once and for all.”

“And what answer did you get?”

Alexei shut his eyes briefly at my quiet but emphatic question. I had no sympathy for his grief, because mine was still too close.

“There was no Valery. As you told me.”

“But you said –“

“I said that it was last part of Valery that turned on me,” Alexei said tiredly. “And that is truth, sort of.”

I sat silently, not willing to let Alexei’s obvious grief rouse my sympathy. Eventually he started to talk. Whoever Romulus had gotten to play Valery had been good enough to fool Alexei for a few moments, long enough to stab him. He’d also been good enough to rouse terrible guilt when Alexei had retaliated in kind to kill him. He’d managed to fight off the two men who had brought him to the ersatz Valery, and even though he’d lost his knife in the scuffle, he retraced his steps to shove Romulus down to Logan.

By the time he was done, I reluctantly accepted my sympathy. Alexei had been right that I’d have gone to Romania whether he’d had any part in this or not, and he had put Romulus into Logan’s hands.

“I understand,” I said at last, some minutes after Alexei had stopped talking.

He glanced at me with a bitter smile on his lips. “But it does not bring Logan back, no?”

I shook my head. “No more than Valery. But I accept that you had no more choice to go after Valery than I did Logan.”

I left him in the teashop without saying good-bye. Such trivialities would be hollow to both of us.

Days passed. Unsurprisingly, my brain wouldn’t settle. I sat meditation until I was nearly crippled from staying still for so long, but all I achieved was self-recrimination. I should’ve tried harder to tell Hank and Kurt to wait, to look for Logan. I should’ve gone back to Romania myself and looked for him. But my nagging, low-grade fever persisted. My internal agitation was to blame more than any physical wounds.

I was such a fool. Such a great, stupid fool, pining for something that existed only in my mind…

I lived in the kitchen, baking holiday treats I didn’t intend to eat, and before the fireplace taking what solace I could in the light and heat and sound of the fire and the cradling embrace of the couch. The fountain stayed silent and I didn’t speak. There seemed to be no words to fill the silence.

One night, Daniel bullied his way in with fresh salmon, an onion tart, and a bottle of my favorite merlot. We chatted of nothing substantial over dinner and a chocolate torte I had made for him. When he left with the rest of the torte, I savored the last sip of wine and settled back into my silence. The moon was full, the air clear and cold. I retreated to the couch, let myself drift, and tried not to think of anything.

Scratch, scratch, scratch. The sound of metal on glass.

There was nothing in any of the windows, nothing on the terrace. I waited.

There. The same sound. At the skylight over my bed. I pulled the time trails to me...

I eased into view of the skylight. There, silhouetted against the glass…

Apprehension flooded me. Logan’s apprehension. The stew of his emotions was chaotic.

I backed out of the room and got both of my swords. I eased them free of their sheaths and edged back into the room. I cracked open the skylight, letting the air in, and took a deep breath, searching for his scent. The adrenaline in it was as rank as his fear.

“Logan?”

“I don’t remember what happened, Rachel. Did I try to kill you?”

My throat knotted. “No, Logan, no. You didn’t try to kill me.”

“I remember almost everythin’ except that moment. I don’t remember –”

My eyes filled with the pain in his voice. “It’s okay, Logan. It’s okay. Come down. It’s all right.”

“Not ‘til you tell me what happened. Not ‘til I know I was in my right mind. If that bastard did somethin’ to my head, I might do it again.”

I swallowed hard and fought to keep my voice steady. “Do you remember us fighting Romulus’s two doubles?”

“You took out the first. I got the second.”

“That’s right. The real one was too high for us to reach. You wanted the knife in my boot. So you pretended to believe Romulus’s trash talk. You popped your claws to make your anger at me seem real when I passed you the knife. But Romulus was telekinetic, and he rammed our bodies together so that you stabbed me. He didn’t do anything to your head.”

“How do you know that?” he growled.

I swallowed hard, but I wasn’t able to keep it from quavering. “Because I felt your emotions, Logan. Terrible shock at what Romulus had done. Agony. Guilt. Do you remember?”

A long, long, pause, then so much doubt and self-loathing flooded over me that I was nearly overwhelmed. I put my hands over my mouth to stifle any sound.

“Rachel?”

I swallowed my emotions, but they wouldn’t behave for long. “Do you remember?”

A long, agonized pause. “No.”

“Then you’ll have to take the word of the only other person there who lived through it. You didn’t try to kill me. Romulus didn’t control you. Please come down off the roof. I’ll meet you on the terrace.”

More of that painful self-doubt, that wary refusal to believe. “You take a hard read of your talents first. You make sure I don’t have bad intentions whether I know it or not.”

I wiped my cheek quickly. “I’ve got your scent, your emotions, your time lines, Logan. I want the rest. I’ll meet you on the terrace.”

I dropped my blades, ran out of my bedroom for the terrace door, flung it open, and went out barefoot in my tee shirt and flannel pants despite the frigid temperature. I turned, looking up at the roof. So many seconds went by that my tears began to freeze on my cheeks. But finally, finally, the dark shadow by the skylight shifted silently and dropped to the terrace.

At the same second that Logan landed, Daniel and two huge men burst in through my front door. They piled out onto the terrace, Daniel at the fore with an ice ax raised in each hand. His two compatriots grabbed me and pulled me back to the terrace door, then stood between Logan and me with pistols drawn. Daniel whacked the outdoor light switch with an elbow, but the dim mood lighting was not enough to reveal many details of Logan standing in the shadows.

“Back off, whoever ye are, ye damned boggart! Do it now!”

“It’s Logan, Daniel!” I said quickly. “It’s Logan. It’s all right.”

Daniel didn’t put down the axes. “Prove it!”

Logan took one step into the light. His coat was a wreck, not much better than rags, though he still had on his fatigue pants and boots. He was unwashed and unshaven, his hair was greasy, and he smelled of sweat, crude oil, and the sea. His eyes were guarded.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Daniel.” Logan said gruffly. He let his coat fall to the terrace and held up his empty hands. “Wasn’t sure of the lay of the land.”

“I’m still not,” Daniel snapped, wavering. He lowered his axes reluctantly and urged me inside. “Are you sure, lass?” he whispered, nodding at the terrace door. “He’s a mess. You took a full read of your talents? Do you want me tae stay?”

I wiped my face hurriedly. “Yes, he’s a mess, and I’m not much better. But we’ll get through it.”

“What happened?” Daniel demanded fiercely.

“He lost a lot of memories –“

“Apparently a frequent occurrence in your dark laddie’s life,” he said acerbically.

I couldn’t suppress a giggle. “Unfortunately so.”

He harrumphed, then his eyes unfocused. “There. I’ve just spared you the rest of the troops.”

“The rest of the troops?”

“The other six bloody Vikings we’ve got on intruder watch tonight. You do remember I told you about them. We could use you on rotation now and again, given that you can see what’s coming.”

“I guess I’ll have to sign on just to atone for scaring everyone to death tonight.”

Daniel shook me gently with one hand. “You’ve atoned for enough, lass. Just…” he nodded towards the terrace. “Don’t gae yourself more tae atone for, all right?”

I nodded. “It’s okay to put down the axes now. They’re quite formidable.”

“Hell, yes,” Daniel snorted. “I know who I’m dealing with.”

Daniel pasted a sour expression on his face as he went back out on the terrace. “Bloody hell, Logan. Here I thought I’d gotten every hole plugged… You smell like an oil tanker, do you ken?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe you should hire Logan to check things out.”

“I’ll do that.” Daniel eyed me pointedly. “We’ll go, then.”

“All right. And thank you for checking on me.”

“I’ll see you in the morning. And welcome home, Logan.”

My Scottish friend let himself and his two compatriots out quietly.

“Sorry about that,” I said quietly.

“Good thing someone’s takin’ better care of you than I have.”

“Here’s your chance to make it up to me. I’m cold and I’m running a fever, so if you don’t come inside and help me get warm, I’ll hold you responsible for making my fever worse.”

“You oughta listen to Daniel, Rachel. You take a full read of your talents.”

Shivering, I came to him and huddled against his chest. “If I project what either of us felt when Romulus slammed us together, we’ll both commit suicide. Come on, Logan. I’m cold.”

I put my arms around him. He swore softly, then swept me into his arms and carried me off the terrace. Inside, he eased me down by the hearth, but I didn’t let him go until my scent and vitals registered and he hugged me hard enough to take my breath away. The emotions and smells that flooded me now were rife with relief and gratitude. I didn’t care whether he thought I cried from his onslaught or my own.

“I’m sorry I left you for someone else to take home,” he whispered gruffly.

“I have been so worried about you. You don’t know. You can’t know. I was afraid that Romulus had claimed you, or shot you with my Uzi –”

His arms tightened around me, and his fingers slid into the hair at the base of my neck. “You put carbonadium bullets in that Uzi, didn’t you?”

“I knew it,” I swallowed. “I wasn’t sure if the bullets hit you for real or in a nightmare time line.”

“It was for real. Emptied my head of what little’s managed to stick there, right enough.”

“But you found your way here. What happened?”

“I found the data drop you brought –”

“How? I looked and looked for it after you used it the first time, but it was nowhere.”

“Thank sheer dumb luck,” Logan admitted ruefully. “First time I used it, I remember feelin’ like somebody had stuck a knife in my ear, and I pulled it out before I was thinkin’. When I found it in my pocket later, I put a note on it to myself. When Romulus pegged my nut with your carbonadium bullet, I lost everything you’d given me, and then some. I wandered around for a couple of hours without a thing in my head, and finally thought to go through my pockets. I found the drop and took the gamble.”

I swallowed. “Your heart stopped the first time you used it. I had to spike a shot of adrenaline into your heart to get it started again.”

“Coulda used that the second time, too.” He looked away. “I thought I’d… all I remembered was who you were, what you were to me, and what your scream sounded like when I stabbed you.”

I rubbed his back to console him and to reassure myself. “Your emotions were just as awful. That’s why I hoped that you’d find your way home. Because Romulus hadn’t controlled you.”

“Don’t remember. I didn’t know how I’d cut you, so I decided to stay under the radar until I knew for sure. Found a berth on a two-bit oil tanker and headed back to the States. Hitched into the city. Found out you’d moved. Took a gamble and headed out to find Daniel. Got your scent next door. Figured if I stayed on the roof, I’d have a few seconds before Daniel rousted out his Vikings, long enough to catch your scent without scarin’ hell outa you, and far enough away to back off if you didn’t want a thing to do with me.”

“When Romulus stabbed me with your claws… it hurt. A lot. I was scared. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to lose you to Romulus after everything I’d done to prevent it.”

That memory, on top of all the emotions that had flooded me, was the last straw. I shut my eyes and let my tears fall in silence. Logan put his arm around me carefully, as if he still didn’t trust himself. But I put mine around his ribs without reservation, and slowly, his emotions started to settle.

“So…” I whispered a few minutes later. “Steak or salmon?”

“Won’t ask you to feed me, darlin’ –”

“No, you won’t, because I’ve already offered.”

“Thought you were sick.”

“So I’ll show you how to use the oven. Once you don’t smell like the Exxon Valdez.”

He snorted in exasperation, but his lips curved up in a shadow of a smile. “You tryin’ to send me to the showers, kid?”

I got to my feet. “I certainly am. Come on.”

A half an hour’s scrub and shave brought Logan back from the depths of the docks, and I had enough food ready to calm his hunger, including the beer I’d bought when I’d first moved in. As he ate, the light in his eyes calmed. When he was through eating, I beckoned him to the couch by the fire. I curled up next to him, and savored the feel of his arm around my shoulders again.

The phone rang softly. I checked the caller ID and nestled next to Logan.

“Hello, Rogue. Daniel ratted Logan out, didn’t he? I thought so. Yes, he’s here.”

Inarticulate cheers rang from the phone, making me laugh.

“Do you want to talk to him?”

“Ah wanna talk to you first, Sugah. Is he okay?”

“A little shaky. But he washed up nicely, and I’m glad to have him back.”

“Like a dyin’ woman wants water in the desert. Can Ah tell everyone he’s back?”

“I’d give him some time, Rogue, but you can ask him yourself. Here he is.”

I handed the phone to Logan.

“Hiya, kid.” He listened for some seconds before his eyebrows flew up. He cut me a considering look. “She did, eh?”

Rogue talked for several more seconds.

“Knock yourself out, kid. But don’t rub anybody’s nose in it. Be nice. For once.”

He smirked at Rogue’s rejoinder.

“Sure, kid. Thank Hank and Kurt for takin’ care of my lady. Yup. Sure. Talk to you soon.”

“What’s she got cooking?” I asked.

“She says you cut Ol’ Red Eyes a new one.”

I grimaced. “I… didn’t start out to. I apologized for hurting Jean. But… oh, he was such a pill, Logan. I didn’t mince any words.”

“Said you marched out of the place not an hour after Hank did his cuttin’.”

“I did that, too.”

“Musta hurt.”

“Not until later. Hank’s got good drugs. Rogue’s tongue must be on fire if she told you all of that in three seconds.”

“That kid might look like a vampire, but she’s true Southerner when it comes to spreadin’ gossip. She’s gonna be in her element tonight.”

“So am I. I’ve got my samurai back.”

Logan’s hand tightened on my shoulder, and he kissed my hair. “Doo itashimashite, _shin-ai na_.”

Beloved, he called me.

I had the feeling that my fever would be gone in the morning.

 

# # #


End file.
